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Six Months at Denison House . . . Caroline L. Williamson, '89 . . 233 

Serenade of the Frost King . . . Josephine E. Batchelder, '96 . 240 

Our Winter Birds Angie Clara Chapin . . . 240 

A Story prom Egypt Elva Hulburd Young, '96 . . 244 

By the Boadside Louise E. Loomis, '97 . . . 248 

The Emphasis of Psychology in the Writ- 
ings of Paul Bourget .... Emily Budd Shultz, '94 . . 248 

Lullaby M. A. C. 254 

Her Valentine Alice Welch Kellogg . . . 255 

That Pig G. W. J., '95 257 

Wanderer's Evening Song .... Edith May, '97 ... 259 

Moll Lillian Quinby .... 259 

V at wrtrrnwa {Florence Annette Wing, '92 . . 263 

Valentines | Gertrude Jones, '95 . . . 263 

A Book Review Agnes Sinclair Holbrook . . 264 

Editorials 267 

Free Press 270 

Exchanges 271 

Books Eeceived 273 

Society Notes 274 

College Bulletin 276 

College Notes 276 

Alumn-e Notes 278 

Married 282 

Born 282 

Died 282 

idol in — 3Februar& 1895 — ma 5 

Entered In the Post Office at "Weliesley, Mass., as second-class matter. 




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Dresses dyed or cleansed whole. Laces, gloves, 
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Flowers and Plants of the choicest varieties for all 
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The Aim of Life. 

Plain Talks to Young Men and Women. By Rev. 
Philip Stafford Moxom. i6mo. Cloth, $1.00. 

Helpful and inspiring, alike fitted to ele- 
vate ideals, broaden mental and moral horizon, 
and fire souls with a determination to live a 
noble, unselfish life. — Transcript. 

At all Bookstores. Postpaid on receipt of price. 

Roberts Brothers, Boston. 


ok Every description. 

The latest in style, best in quality, at 
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Special discount to Wellesley students 
and teachers. 

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The Wellesley Magazine. 

Vol. III. WELLESLEY, FEBRUARY 9, 1895. No. 5. 







The Wellesley Magazine is published monthly, from October to June, by a board of editors 
chosen from the Senior Class. 

All literary contributions may be sent to Miss M. G. Caldwell, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All items of college interest, and communications to be inserted in the department of Free Press, 
will be received by Miss Sarah C. Weed, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

All alumnae news should be sent to Miss Maude R. Keller, Wellesley, Mass. 

Advertising business is conducted by Miss Elizabeth A. Stark, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Subscriptions to the Magazine and other business communications should in all cases be sent to 
Miss Alethea Ledyard, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. 

Terms, $2.00 per year; single copies, 25 cents. Payment should be made by money order. 


" What do you do?" " Tell us all about your work? " These are two 
of the questions which a person who is actively interested in Settlements is 
almost sure to hear again and again. They are very natural inquiries, and 
yet at times they fill her with a dumb despair. It is living, not doing, that 
Settlements stand for primarily. A resident no more thinks of labeling and 
cataloguing her actions because she lives on Tyler Street than because she 
lives on Beacon Street. To be sure, a young woman does not do the same 
sort of thing always that she would do were she living on the Back Bay, but 
life is not so intrinsically different as it might seem. There is the intellectual 
side and the social. Because a woman lives in surroundings somewhat 
different from those in which she has been reared, she does not abandon her 


spiritual or religious life, nor does she proclaim it with unusual prominence. 
She lives her life simply and naturally, with perhaps greater possibilities for 
growth than she would have under circumstances which would confine her 
thought and interest within narrower limits. Friendships are formed. 
Joys and sorrows have their day, with this difference, that she never has 
time to manufacture woes for herself in the face of the very real and vital 
troubles of other people. 

Moreover, when it comes to the actual activities, each hour of each day 
of each member of a Settlement family is so widely divergent, that a resident 
feels hopeless when she tries to condense the happenings of a week or a 
year into a few pages or into a five-minutes' conversation. 

To attempt to tell college students who are already familiar with the 
report of the College Settlements Association for the past year, who have 
recently had a talk from the Head Worker of Denison House, and who have 
been welcome and helpful visitors at the Boston College Settlement, is a 
difficult task. But the life is manifold, and no two persons' point of view is 
ever quite the same ; so it is to be hoped that the wise ones will be indulgent, 
and that the uninformed may find somewhat of interest in this brief account 
of Denison House during the winter of 1893-94. It is already a record of 
the past, for the development of Settlement work is so rapid that a few 
months may make radical differences in any detailed description. 

Doubtless it is quite generally understood that the members of a Settle- 
ment assist in the housework. At Denison House this was by no means 
burdensome, even in times of scarcity of residents, for " many hands make 
light work." Each made her bed and kept her room in order. Once in 
two weeks the room was given a thorough cleaning by some one who came 
from outside. Each resident had a light household task, such as setting or 
waiting on the table for a meal, or brushing down the stairs and halls. 
Apropos of the last accomplishment, the following line occurs in a doggerel 
which was sung by the residents at the birthday celebration of a not 
unknown professor, — 

" To see her sweep the stairs, and dust and mop!!!" 
This was sung to the classic tune of " The Little Chickens in the Garden." 


"Door" was the appointed duty of each member of the household for 
one morning and one afternoon every week. This meant the answering of 
the doorbell, and the reception of those who came. To "have door" was 
often to live in a continuous drama, with ever-changing scenes. Truly, one 
saw and conversed with all sorts and conditions of men. From the lady 
who came in her carriage and inquired if the matron was at home, leaving 
the resident who greeted her somewhat in doubt as to whether she was an 
inmate of an insane asylum or an orphanage, to the man who asked for " the 
missus" and "wanted a job," the changes rung were infinite. Or, the 
doorkeeper might find herself confronted by a bevy of bright faces, and be 
accosted with a chorus of " Why, it's warm here !" "They have a fire !" 
Mayhap a low giggle from without would render her not unprepared for 
the vehemence with which the door would fly open at the turn of the handle, 
as Eddie and Freddie, Charlie and Willie, and probably small, pretty Josie 
in the van, would come rolling and tumbling the length of the hall, 
signaling their effectual entrance into the "the game house" by a wild 
whoop of delight. Quite often in the scramble a cap would come off, and be 
gallantly rescued by the elder brother to the familiar sound of "Where's 
my Eddie's hat?" But door tending was not always such a jolly affair. 
To meet again and again a hungry, pinched face, to hear over and over the 
plea for " something to eat," to devise work that the eating might follow, 
was not always an easy task. A fall of snow was welcomed as a bene- 
faction. The number of times the front sidewalk was scrubbed must have 
been an amazement to the neighbors. Shelves were put up in every 
available place in the house. Each new method of work was hailed with 
delight, for no tickets were given to the five-cent restaurant, soup kitchen, 
or lodging house without a work test. These demands belonged to a winter 
of special stress, it is to be hoped. A ring might mean that " himself has 
been a drinking ag'in, and he was that crazy I dared not stay by him with 
the children, and so I come here." Or, again, it might be another " him- 
self," who was " that cut to the heart with the questions they axed him and 
then give him no work, at all, at all ; and him no work these six weeks, and 
not a bit of coal, -nor a drap of milk in the house for the babby." A brisk 
peal would usher in Tillie, who came for a friendly call and a song at her 
noon hour. Or, a hurried voice would leave word that Annie had " come 


back." Come back ! Yes, a real tale of the prodigal son, but with all the 
horror and misery into which the competitive system can drive a girl who 
loves brightness and beauty, and who can earn barely enough by long hours 
and starvation wages to miserably exist. It may be one of the neighbors 
who has " seen better days." Now, the times are very dark, for the one 
wage-earner of the family has tramped the streets in search of work for 
many weeks, and the next meal is a problem. But she brings her tenderly 
cherished coat, which looks little the worse for twelve years' wear, and 
which has been carefully brushed and mended, " for some one who needs it 
more," because, forsooth, she " has a shawl and doesn't need both." 

Life in a Settlement is not all door tending. It is many-sided. One 
phase is quite peculiarly social. Any one may drop in to lunch or dinner, — 
a pretty society girl, a learned professor, a celebrated economist, a labor 
leader, or a factory inspector. Under such circumstances conversation 
does not halt, and is apt to be interesting in the extreme. The meal may 
take the form of a gay christening party, in honor of the babe for whom a resi- 
dent stood godmother. Or, the quiet happiness of the little tailoress who has 
come from her solitary one-room life may irradiate the whole table. 

There was one afternoon a week when the Settlement was " at home" 
to all friends, chiefly to those who did not live in the immediate neighbor- 
hood. On Thursday evening the weekly "party" occurred. Usually 
there was music, dramatics, or games. A resident certainly does not know 
her own capacities until they have been put to the test by a Thursday 
evening at Denison House. In spite of occasional weariness, and a few 
never-to-be-forgotten evenings, when there were three sets of people to 
entertain, — the people who came to help, the people who escorted the people 
who came to help, and the neighbors, — she is very much inclined to voice the 
sentiments of a dear old lady who, after one of these celebrations, heaved 
a great sigh of contentment, and said, " I haven't had such a good time 
these twenty years." Nor must the ten Christmas parties, the Hallowe'en 
and St. Valentine's festivities, be forgotten. They were most highly 

The friendly calls which take much of the time of the residents, afford 
some of the most pleasant and happy hours of settlement life. They vary 
in character from the mysteries of a Chinese New Year's or a German 


Christmas to a talk about the children over a friendly cup of tea. They 
may be spent beside a sick bed. Harrowing and gruesome indeed illness 
and death may be under many a circumstance, but especially when the 
simplest comforts and conveniences of sickness are lacking. And yet, the 
patience and heroism of the sufferer and his friends may make that sick bed 
a spot of rare beauty. A walk with an invalid who mentions incidentally, 
and as a matter of course, that if it were not for the coal dropped from the 
engines she would have no fire that winter, forever lends new interest to 
railroad tracks. 

It is beyond doubt a fact that a member of a Settlement receives much 
more than she gives. With every turn her ideas are broadened, her 
interests increased. Perhaps one of the greatest educational features of the 
life at Denison House was a conscious effort. This was the Social Science 
Club, which met every other Thursday morning. Beginning with the 
members of Andover and Denison Houses, it came to include also a number 
of clergymen, students, the head of a workingmen's institute, a factory 
inspector, and several labor leaders. The subject under consideration 
during the winter was organized labor, tracing its development from 
mediaeval guilds down to its latest phases. A paper was presented by some 
member, followed by a general discussion. It was sure to be animated. 
Many points of view were expressed, and each received an immense amount 
of benefit from hearing " the other side." 

As the winter went on, a Federal Labor Union was formed, which was 
composed, for the most part, of wage-earners and professional people who 
were banded together " to secure among people of all classes a better 
understanding of the labor movement." 

Other opportunities for study of the labor problem were afforded by 
the Garment Makers' Union, which met every other week in the Denison 
House parlor, and through the Central Labor Union, whose meetings 
a number of the residents attended. Nothing could have been finer than the 
way in which the more intelligent, conservative leaders succeeded in 
controlling the general multitude, driven nearly to desperation by months 
of enforced idleness, and by families in dire distress. Resource to the 
ballot and deprecation of violence were again and again the principles 
enforced. One could not but wonder at the patience and self-control of 


such masses of more or less ignorant and ill-disciplined men, many of whom 
were foreigners, with ideas of government quite opposed to those of our 
American republic. Surely it was worth while for Denison House to have 
won the confidence of some of these leaders, and to help form the bridge 
where both sides could meet on a common footing, and come to a better 
understanding of each other.* 

Of quite another character, but no less educational, were the efforts 
along University Extension lines. A bachelor of arts felt that she had not 
improved her opportunities, when she saw the avidity with which girls who 
worked ten hours a day could seize a chance to study Ruskin, Shakespeare, 
Wordsworth, or Homer. Some of them showed a keenness of insight in 
literary interpretation and criticism which many a college student might 
envy. An enthusiastic class in History of Art, with eager visits to the Art 
Museum, proved a capacity for beauty which those who are sometimes 
satiated with greater privileges can scarcely understand. 

For those who have a love for child life, the Settlement affords a large 
field for gratification. Saturday afternoon the house held, in two install- 
ments, all the small folk it well could. They overflowed into Wednesday 
and Thursday afternoons after school, while on Tuesday afternoon the door 
was besieged by a small army for " books" and " bank." The House was 
a station of the Penny Stamp Savings Society, through whose agency the 
children exchanged their pennies for bright-colored stamps until the time 
when they wished to expend their savings. One faithful boy attained unto 
a suit of new clothes, a hat, necktie, and boots, and appeared resplendent on 
the Hebrew Easter to show himself in all his glory. The lending library 
increased greatly during the winter through the kindness of many friends, 
and the number of children who came for books more than doubled. 

In a time of financial distress such as that of last winter, much of the 
energy of the household was expended in relief work. As has been stated, 
each day ingenuity was fully taxed to provide work for the many applicants 
who asked for a meal or a lodging. The greatest effort was a plan which 
was started quite simply for a few personal friends, tailoresses who were out 
of employment. It grew into the employment of one hundred and fifty 

* Further elaboration of these phases of Denison House may be found in the Fifth 
Annual Report of the College Settlements Association. 


women a week in shifts of three days each. The rooms for this were given 
rent free. The wages of seventy-five cents a day were paid by the Citizens' 
Eelief Committee. Great care was taken to dispose of the garments in such 
a way as not to interfere with the regular market. Such an experiment was 
rendered possible for Denison House by the untiring efibrts of two of the 
residents of the preceding year, who thus left the members of Denison 
House for the most part free to pursue their regular life. As the Head 
Worker of the Boston Settlement has said in her last report: "To give 
work-relief or any form of material aid is not the highest function of a 
Settlement, nor, in ordinary times, a part of its function;" but "We felt 
this enterprise to be a true part of Settlement Work, since it was the form 
of friendliness most needed last winter by our neighbors."* 

Such is a suggestion of some of the activities of life at Denison House 
during the winter of '93-94. By request, this article has tried to deal with 
facts, not theories ; with particulars, not generalizations. 

With no desire or intention of closing after the manner of an advertise- 
ment for a patent medicine, the writer would state a few facts in answer to 
a very frequent question. The question is, " What can I do for the Settle- 
ments?" The facts are these: You can become a member of the Under- 
graduate or Alumnse Chapters of the College Settlements' Association by 
the payment of $1 yearly, or of the General Association by $5 per annum. 
There is always an opportunity to lend a hand, and consultation with the 
Head Worker will reveal many ways. To the Undergraduate Chapter at 
Wellesley it seems hardly necessary to state these facts, for they have found 
so many ways both last winter and this, but — " The more, the better." 

Caroline L. Williamson, '89. 

* A full account of this Work-Kelief with elaborate and varied analyses and tables has been 
published separately, and may be had on application to the Secretary of the College Settle- 
ments' Association, for ten cents. 



I have come from realms of the North, 
On the swift, chill wings of night, 
In the wake of silver moon 
And the stars with crystal light. 
I have come from realms of the North, 
With a heart which is pure and free, 
And upon thy window pane 
I will breathe my love for thee. 

In a web of finest lace, 

With a mystic, skillful hand, 

I will weave a vision bright — 

' Tis a gleam of fairyland ! 

In a forest sparkling white 

'Neath the spell of ice-bound leaves, 

I await the dawn of day, 

While for thee my spirit grieves. 

Thou art fair and passing fair, 
Thou art pure as falling snow ; 
There's a song of thee in the air — 
'Tis the night wind whispering low. 
By the light of yon pale moon, 
By the sob of distant sea, 
By the hush of breaking morn, 
I will pledge my love to thee. 

But the still, sweet night has fled ; 
There is gold across the snow ; 
Look ! the sun comes up from the east, 
Thou canst see my heart's deep glow! 
But I cannot bear thy gaze ; 
'Tis in vain thou bidst me stay. 
It is death to linger long; 
At thy breath I fade away ! 

Josephine H. Batcheldek, '96. 


While most of the summer birds migrate southwards before the first 
of November, a faithful few remain to brave the storms of our long winter, 
and cheer us by their courage. The list is not long, but it is a roll of 


Even the crow, with his harsh voice, could hardly be spared from our 
winter landscape. We should miss his black figure, sleek and solemn, 
walking sedately along the open field, or showing his silhouette against the 
white snow or the blue sky. 

The blue jay, no doubt, thinks he should have been mentioned first, 
because of his fine plumage, and his shrill voice and the snap and decision 
of his manner. He knows where the squirrel keeps his nuts, and I have 
caught him helping himself. Moreover, in a certain hollow tree he has 
a little hoard of his own, as perhaps the squirrel knows. Nothing daunts 
him. Watch him crack a nut if you would see the very embodiment of con- 
centrated energy. He is certainly handsome, and probably knows it. His 
colors, grey, light blue, black and white, though modest, are so combined as 
to be conspicuous. His saucy crest seems to be held in place by a band of 
black velvet ribbon passing under his chin. His voice is sharp and clear, 
and rings with ho uncertain sound on a bright, frosty morning, — a true note 
of winter. 

The severer winter of the North sometimes drives down to us flocks 
of pine grosbeaks, — large, strong-looking birds with stout beaks. The male 
in full plumage resembles the purple finch or linnet, but is much more rare 
than the plainer grey female or immature male. They make great on- 
slaught on the buds of pines and spruces, but never mind ; a bird must 
live, and a pine bud with its rank, resinous gum is good strong diet to keep 
out the cold. The food-question must become a serious one when a heavy 
snow is on the ground, and especially so when the trees are encased in ice ; 
for the winter birds depend largely upon what they can get from the trees, 
especially the cone-bearing trees. The woodpeckers, nuthatches, and 
brown creepers spend their whole time on the bark of the trees, running up 
and down and spirally around, picking industriously for eggs or grubs 
Avhich must be in a sort of cold storage. 

Our most common woodpecker is the downy, — a trim, dapper little 
black and white bird, the male having the characteristic red band on the 
nape of his neck which marks him as a member of the " red-headed family." 

The nuthatch has a dainty coloring, ashy blue above and almost white 
below, with a black crown. He is very active, and has a quaint little note 
which sounds like " quank, quank," and then runs off into a muffled laugh. 


The brown creeper is still smaller than the nuthatch, and is almost 
invisible from the fact that he is about the color of everything, or of noth- 
ing, and generally contrives to keep on the other side of the tree trunk 
from the observer. His only note is like the " zree " of an insect. 

Still smaller than the creeper is the tiny, golden-crowned kinglet. A 
little king, only four inches long, but every inch a hero. They feed in our 
evergreens in small flocks, and are easily distinguishable from the more 
common chickadees by their smaller size and by two white bars on each 
wing. In fact their whole color-scheme is different, being olivaceous above, 
yellowish white below, and in the case of males of perfect plumage having a 
bright yellow crown, deepening to orange or flame-color in the middle. 
Their note is only a faint "tzip." 

Our sweet-voiced friends the goldfinches appear now in sober garb, 
instead of their summer dress of bright lemon yellow with black velvet cap. 
But it is only a thin disguise, after all, for they fly in the same pretty wavy 
line, weaving festoons in the air, and repeat their one word with variations, 
"sweet, sweetie, too-sweet." 

There are several birds popularly known as "snowbirds." The most 
common one with us is known to science as Junco hiemalis, called the black 
snowbird, although he is not black, but a dark, slaty grey with an ivory-white 
bill, which shows prominently against the dark color of his head. Under- 
neath, or at least below the breast, he is white, and at either side of his tail 
wears two white feathers, of which he seems to be extremely proud. In fact, 
most birds which possess this mark seem fond of displaying it by sundry 
flirts and swift, fan-like spreading and closing of the tail feathers. 

Some cold night you may hear a soft, reverberating sound like a distant 
or muffled bell. Who ever said that an owl had a pleasing note? Probably 
it is distance lends enchantment to it now. But it is weird, and somehow 
thrills the sense. It seemed especially appropriate as I lay and listened to 
it in Athens at night, — Athena's own bird up on the Acropolis. The modern 
Greeks have a very pretty name for it, which sounds like " cuckoo-vah-ya." 

But of all these stout hearts in feathered breasts, the stoutest and the 
cheeriest is the chickadee, or black-capped titmouse, "Tomtit." His hearty 
note pierces the cold air like a ray of sunshine. Homer says that when 
Athena wished to prepare Menelaus to meet Hector in hand-to-hand fight, 


she gave him the courage of a fly. Perhaps Homer never knew a chickadee. 
He is a tiny atom of a bird, a living demonstration of perpetual motion. 
His color is grey, lighter and darker, with a black cap and a little fluff of 
yellowish down under each wing. He is full of sprightly antics, and there 
is nothing which he will not attempt. He will light on the vertical trunk of 
a tree like a woodpecker, and with a little assistance from his wings really 
make some progress up and around the trunk. Then he darts into the air 
like a flycatcher, and comes back and clings in a perfectly impossible attitude 
to a pine cone, from which he picks out the seeds and sends half of them 
flying. Then he drops down and takes a cold plunge in the snow, dipping 
in his head, fluttering his wings, and throwing off the snow like spray. At 
least one of our poets appreciated this dauntless little hero and felt him to 
be a kindred spirit. It was Emerson, the gentle philosopher. His whole 
poem on the titmouse is wonderfully true to nature and to bird character. 
He says he was "wading in the snow-choked wood" 

" When piped a tiny voice hard by, 
Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, 
' Chic-chica-dee-dee ! ' saucy note 
Out of sound heart and merry throat, 
As if it said, ' Good day, good sir! 
Fine afternoon, old passenger! 
Happy to meet you in these places 
Where January brings few faces.' 

This poet, though he lived apart, 

Moved by his hospitable heart, 

Sped, when I passed his sylvan fort, 

To do the honors of his court, 

As fits a feathered lord of land ; 

Flies near, with soft wing grazed my hand, 

Hopped on the bough, then, darting'low, 

Prints his small impress on the snow, 

Shows feats of his gymnastic play, 

Head downward, clinging to the spray. 

Here was this atom in full breath 
Hurling defiance at vast death ; 
This scrap of valor, just for play, 
Fronts the north wind in waistcoat gray, 
As if to shame my weak behavior; 
I greeted loud my little saviour: 


' Thou pet ! what dost thou here, and what for? 
In these woods, thy small Labrador, 
At this pinch, wee San Salvador ! 
What fire burns in that little breast, 
So frolic, stout, and self-possessed? 
Henceforth I wear no stripe but thine ; 
Ashes and jet all hues outshine.' " 

As I write, the sky is grey and cold, and the snow is falling fast. It is 
a day for a book and a corner, or for day dreams before an open fire. But 
no ! there is the sharp, clear call of a blue jay, or rather all his various calls, 
one after another ; a moment later and he darts past my window like a 
feathered arrow. Something within me responds to his summons. "Con- 
sider the winged creatures of the heavens." 

Angie Clara Chapin. 


The spring of '92 I spent in Egypt, drifting down the Nile and giving 
myself up to the restful, lazy atmosphere of that fascinating country. Some- 
what of an ethnologist, interested in Muller's theory of the origin of myths, 
and, more than all, caught by that network of intricate priest lore known as 
the Egyptian religion, I was on the search for tales and traditions in which 
its peculiar features were embodied. 

While at Cairo I met a certain street peddler of scarfs from Damascus, 
Ra by name. He was a former servant of the temple, and had collected a 
score of old tales from the papyrus and the traditions of the priests. He 
was a famous story-teller, and I an eager listener ; and so, for a bit of silver, 
he came every day with some new romance, or history, or myth. Apart 
from the help they gave me in my study, the stories were for the most part 
interesting in themselves. Such is the one I give below. As I write, there 
comes back to me the witchery of that June evening when up on the flat 
house top Ra told me his story. Nowhere else are skies so blue, or stars so 
piercingly bright, as in Egypt ; nowhere else does the night bring to the soul 
such a subtle recognition of its own existence as in that land of mysteries, 
whose priestcraft can shut out only by day the doctrine of immortality. 
The picture of Ra pouring forth his story with passionate, fiery gestures, 


his face changing with every mood, from grave to sad, from sad to defiant, 
and the sound of his quaint Egyptian phrases, which no translator dares 
imitate, comes back to me with perfect clearness when the story itself has 
long been dim. Put yourself on that house top, beneath that sky : feel you 
are in Egypt, and listen while I translate into English the story Ra told me 
of the East. 

Before I begin I must quote a bit of tradition which should precede. 
" Centuries ago, when only the beginnings of the Egyptian race were in 
existence, two tribes descended from twin brothers, vowed eternal enmity to 
each other. They separated ; one for a wild life in the desert, the other for 
the city villas by the plains. The law was made that among the Amites — 
for such was the name of the desert tribe — he who should wed a Korite should 
die by the torments of Sisu. And the desert and the law separated the two 
like an ocean without ships." My story begins : — 

The king was holding his court in the hall of Athor. Massive pillars 
of red granite upheld a tiled roof cut with texts from the ; ' Book of the 
Dead," and opening in the center to the sky. The smaller pillars were so 
arranged as to convey the idea of infinite space ; the light from the center, 
which quivered in tremulous jets of rose and amber flames, finally lost itself 
in the surrounding gloom. A long avenue of criosphinxes, facing each 
other, led up to a marble dais, upon which was the throne of the king. On 
the outskirts of the hall were gathered groups of priests, warriors, and 
nobles, talking in subdued tones as befitted the court room, though the shrugs 
of the shoulders and the excited gestures of the hands belied the quietness 
of their voices. ■ 

For two weeks the city had been at the mercy of its ancient foes, the 
Amites. The water source among the hills, which for centuries had been un- 
discovered, was in their hands, while the city itself, with reservoirs exhausted 
and the brackish water of the river for its last hope, was enduring the horrors 
of a water famine. A rumor had started in the city that somewhere within the 
walls was an Amite woman, the wife of a Korite noble, and it was for her, 
that daring maid of the desert, that the mighty army waited at the water 
course among the hills. Men whispered the story in awe. If it were true, 
what horrors, what tortures awaited her ! But the water sank lower in the 
reservoirs, and men forgot their pity ; for who could think of an Amite woman 


— a stranger and a foe — when his children were dying at his doorway and 
his wife was going mad ? The worst of a city's life, which lay a seething 
mass of corruption within the darkest part of its walls, burst out into the 
broad daylight ; at first it haunted the market place, but afterwards turned 
its loathsome way toward the gardens of the king. There, lit up by the 
red glare of burning roofs, the mass surged and swayed in awful patience, 
while their swollen tongues scarce could frame the cry that day and night 
floated up over the city walls, — " Bring us your wife, O Korite !" So the 
king had called his court ; priest, noble, and warrior must declare their 
innocence. After that there must be war. After war? Death! for the 
Korites were as one to three to the host of the desert that waited in silence by 
the water course. 

Before the dais was a tripod carved with heads of lions, and on it 
flickered a blue flame. As the court, one by one, dropped the tiny grains 
of white powder on the flame and took the oath of Pthah that he was inno- 
cent, the priest made answer, "May thy soul perish as this dust if thou 
liest ! " and the court replied, "Pthah so will it!" That day one soul lost 

The court was hurriedly dismissed. Still up over the city floated the 
wild, ferocious yells of the city's mob, "Bring us your wife!" To Bar, 
the Korite, the words came rushing back with a bitter force, and the sicken- 
ing despair of the long two weeks, that had been crushed down a moment 
before, returned with added sharpness. How long had it been since, lost on 
the desert amid the blinding sand storms of the North, he had wandered 
into the very midst of Amite tents ? How long had it been since he had 
wooed and won a girl who fled in terror from the vengeance of her tribe ? 
Where had he been in the countless ages intervening? What had he been? 
He stood half dazed in the courtyard, till a tile from a burning roof cut him 
on the face and awoke him with a start. The hoarse voices of the mob 
brought her danger swiftly before him. Plans for escape came with clear- 
cut sharpness. They must go that very night. Beyond the city's walls, up 
the desert, and away to the west of the inland sea, were freer lands where 
they could live, — they two, safe from broken vows and a city's revenge. 
His face by this time was like a mask ; it hid something, one knew not what, 
and he talked to himself in the low, dull voice one hears from the old. At 


the door of his garden the servant met him with a hurried greeting, "She 
knows ! " 

" Where is she?" he asked. 


He pushed aside the long curtains of purple and white linen, and stepped 
upon the cool marble of the inner chamber. He remembered afterwards, 
with the grimness of mockery, that the cut figures on the wall were those 
of Isis and Osiris, and that a lamp was burning before the statue of Horus. 
In the middle of the room stood his wife. Her great eyes burned like a 
desert tiger's, — all yellow with black rims ; and her breath came and went 
in long-drawn gasps that startled the grimness of his face. 

"Listen! They say, — no, Amrah says that the city dies from thirst 
because of me ! And I — I — how can I bear the blame of the children that 
die, and of their mothers that curse me? I will go back !" 

This he had not dreamed of. It worked like the lash of the overseer on 
the drowsy slave. He seized her wrist with cruel tightness and bore down 
on her with the strength of his soul. 

"You shall not ! You shall not ! You are coming with me, away from 
this cursed spot. Let them suffer ; we have each other. And you, — do you 
forget that you love me, — that I love you? You have forgotten — or is it 
nothing to you?" 

He spoke savagely, tempestuously, carried away by the thought of her 

The yellow faded out of her eyes; they were now of a deep brown, 
like the eyes of the maiden he had wooed under desert skies three months 

"Love you! Can a woman forget? For every thought of yours I 
could give you double. Love you? See, I could kiss your very feet; and 
you ask me if I forget ! " 

(I know not what else she said ; a long break in the papyrus intervenes. 
But this Ra told me : after that, the howling mob went back to its quiet 
quarters, and the warrior to his mistress, and the sword to the wall ; for the 
woman had returned to her kindred and the man to his fate.) 

Elva Hulburd Young, '96. 



Shy violets among the tangled grass ; 
Red robin, to thine own mate blithely singing, 
Among the elm-tree boughs so gayly swinging ; 
My love, my true love, down this way will pass. 

How shall you know her? By her sunny hair, 
Her grave, sweet eyes, all pure, no evil knowing: 
Oh, robin ! thou wilt turn to watch her going ; 
There is no maid in all the land so fair. 

Shy violets among the tangled grass, 
Shed forth your richest perfumes 'neath her feet; 
And gallant robin, when thou seest her pass, 
Trill out thy merriest lay her ears to greet; 
And elm-tree branches, drooping low above her, 
Whisper to her that I came by and love her. 

Louise R. Loomis, '97. 



Perhaps the only psychic process which follows in our minds the 
hearing of the name of Paul Bourget, is the awakening of a train of associa- 
tions with a certain chapter in "Outre Mer" treating of "that woman's 
college, which rises at the edge of the little Lake Waban, at Wellesley, 
near Boston," and of its inhabitants, who, strange to say, "have nothing 
monastic about them," who go to Boston unattended, and who every 
Saturday night give a ball in the gymnasium, "to which they invite their 
friends from Boston and Cambridge." Fortunately, however, Paul Bourget 
has more worthy claims to our consideration than his comments on " this 
singular institution," and it is very possible that our understanding of him 
may be further from right than was his estimate of us. 

Bourget himself, in enumerating the great tendencies of the present 
("Portraits d'Hommes," p. 149), mentions the spirit of analysis ; and all 
students of the age in which we live recognize in both science and art this 
spirit which would search all things to the utmost, would find the hidden 
cause of every apparent effect. In literature, this explanatory passion has 
expressed itself in the attempt to dissect the human soul, to measure and 
weigh the events of the psychic life ; and in the realm of French fiction — and, 


therefore, of all contemporaneous prose fiction — Paul Bourget stands 
pre-eminent in " the minute analysis of the workings of many individual 
minds." Bourget's is not the distinction of having introduced the psycho- 
logical element into literature ; Balzac did that fifty years ago. Bourget is 
not even the originator of his theory, which he found in Taine's " De lTntel- 
ligence." Other men have had the same thought. Our own Browning has 
in a very different field shown that, before Paul Bourget ever saw the light, 
he had fundamentally the same theory of interpreting human life as that of 
the French novelist. But Bourget was the first to embody the theory in 
prose fiction. He has set forth and defended his method in critical essays ; 
but his great success has been in the practical application of the idea in 
novel, story, and sketch. His work has been received with the utmost 
favor ; many of his books have reached their fortieth thousand, and the 
number of his admirers and imitators increases daily. 

A comprehension of Bourget's method may be, perhaps, best attained 
by contrasting his work with that of the writers of the school which 
preceded him, — the school of Flaubert and the Goncourts, one of whose 
most brilliant representatives was Guy cle Maupassant. Their effort is to- 
explain the effect of environment upon the individual. Therefore their 
chief stress is on the external. It is as if in their eyes every character were 
originally a lump of the common clay, which circumstance rounds here, 
flattens there, cuts and shapes into an individual life. Men are, then, 
distinguished from one another by the various environments of their 
existences. To Bourget, on the other hand, the great force in life is not 
the external, but the individual character. It is the mind of man which 
shapes his life, rising superior to environment. According to his view 
individuals are born not made, although they may be modified by circum- 
stance. Since he concerns himself only with the minds of men, the 
external is nothing to him, excepting so far as it is an expression of the 
spiritual. He emphasizes physique, heredity, and race characteristics as 
important factors in the psychic composition. 

The difference in the art and philosophy of the two may be most 
clearly seen by turning to concrete examples. I have chosen " Moonlight," 
by Maupassant, and "A Saint," by Bourget, not because they best 
represent the work of their respective authors, but because translation has 
made them both familiar even to those who do not read French. 


From the very title of Maupassant's story we see that it is the moon- 
light, the external thing, which is to play the chief part in the drama. Let 
me recall the outline of the story, quoting a sentence here and there. 

The Abbe Marignan was "a tall, thin priest, very fanatical, of an 
ecstatic but upright soul." "He thought that he understood God 
thoroughly ; that he penetrated His designs, His wishes, His intentions." 
" Only he did hate women; he hated them unconscionably, and he despised 
them -by instinct." "He had indulgence only for nuns, rendered harmless 
by their vow." " He had a niece who lived with her mother in a little 
house near by. He was bent on making her a sister of charity." The 
Abbe, naturally, "experienced a dreadful emotion" when informed by his 
housekeeper that his niece had a lover. After passing the evening in great 
tumult of mind, and breaking a chair back in his fierce wrath, the Abbe 
went out to cool off in " the serene beauty of the palefaced night." Then 
follows a wonderful description of how "the perfumed soul of the honey- 
suckle in the warm, clear night;" " the short note of the frogs ;" "the light 
and vibrant melody of the nightingales ;" the silvery mist along the winding 
river bank ; "the caressing radiance of the moonlight overall," — ravished 
his senses, filled his soul with emotion. " And a doubt, a vague uneasiness, 
seized on him." "Why had God done this?" "For whom was intended 
this sublime spectacle, this flood of poetry poured from heaven to earth?" 
■" But now, see, down there along the edge of the field appeared two 
shadows walking side by side." " They seemed, these two, like one being, 
the being for whom was destined this calm and silent night." "And he 
said to himself, ' God perhaps has made such nights as this to clothe with 
the ideal the loves of men.'" "For all that, it was really his niece; but 
now he asked himself if he had not been about to disobey God. And he 
fled in amaze, almost ashamed." 

Environment has conquered principle and prejudice. 

The outlining of " A Saint " is a much more difficult matter. The 
actual incident occupies only ten of the eighty-nine pages ("Portraits 
d'Hommes ") ; the rest is all explanatory : Two French travelers visit a 
suppressed Italian monastery in a remote mountain district, whose custodian 
is an old monk, Dom Griffi. The younger of the two travelers, Philip 
Dubois, and the monk, are the center of interest ; but there are a number 


of minor studies, and every one of these presents to us no mere figurehead, 
but a personality, an individual. During the long carriage ride up to the 
monastery, Philip Dubois reveals his history and ambitions to his companion 
in the excursion. He is a young archaeologist and would-be author; and a 
most odious type of egotism. His unbounded faith in his own literary talent 
is only equaled by his bitter envy of his successful rivals. He reproaches 
his family and the world in general for not providing him with the necessary 
wealth with which to begin his career. He is, as a matter of course, an 
irreverent skeptic toward all that is beautiful and sacred. His experiences 
as a man are all made use of by him as an author. After relating, with an 
air of legitimate pride, his latest intrigue with an Italian actress, he says : 
"You will understand that I did not let those emotions go to waste ; I have 
almost finished a little volume of verse which I will show you." And so he 
goes on, disgusting the older man by the revelation of " a soul without love, 
and an ambition which sought pre-eminently in a literary career the brutal 
satisfaction of fame and money." (Portraits d'Hommes, page 27.) Upon 
arriving at the monastery the travelers are received by an old monk, whose 
ludicrous appearance calls forth an insulting comment from the arrogant 
young Frenchman. It is Dom Griffi, who entertains his guests with the 
hospitality and cultured tact of a courtier ; who seasons the frugal dinner 
with quotations from Horace and Dante ; who listens with the innocence of 
the pure in heart to the scoffing remarks of Philip ; who exhibits his newly 
discovered frescoes with the enthusiasm of an artist, and tells their legends 
with the simple faith of a little child ; who allows himself but four hours' 
sleep, that he may have time to copy sermons for his old teacher, to study 
the Fathers, to oversee, counsel, administer to the body, mind, and soul of 
his peasants, and, above all, care for the monastery. His whole heart is 
wrapped up in the institution in which he has spent forty years of his life. 
It is Dom Griffi's dream to preserve the monastery in perfect condition until 
the banished Brothers shall be permitted to return and take possession of 
their own. He has long prayed and labored for sufficient money to rebuild 
a crumbling terrace where the sick Brothers used to sit in the sunshine ; and 
when his guests inform him that some old medals in his possession are worth 
thousands of francs, his joy and his gratitude to God and to the travelers 
know no bounds. When they retire to their room, Philip breaks out in a 


tirade against Fate, which' has denied his talent a few thousand francs — 
" and here this imbecile in a cassock is going to have perhaps six thousand 
francs ! And what will he use them for ? To rebuild a terrace for some 
monks who will never see it again." 

With sunrise the next day Philip is up and off for a tramp through the 
fields. To fill an idle hour, the elder traveler asks to look over the medals 
once more. He discovers that the two most valuable ones are missinsr. No 
one else but Philip knows of their existence ; he has unquestionably stolen the 
medals. The older Frenchman hastens to inform Dom Griffi of the loss. 
And what does the monk do in his disappointment? He exacts a promise 
never to mention the occurrence to Philip. When the young man returns 
in an evident state of guilty unrest, he entertains him with cheerful kind- 
ness. And just before the time for departure he gives Philip an oppor- 
tunity to absolve his conscience from theft by leaving him alone with the 
case of medals, after requesting him to take two or three as a mark of grati- 
tude from " the old monk who prayed for you this morning." The generous 
impulses of youth are not utterly smothered in Philip Dubois : he rushes 
to the cell of the old man ; confesses his crime ; and in the look he casts 
upon the simple monk as they drive away, the narrator sees " the dawn of a 
new soul." 

The whole moral drama is represented with such minuteness of detail, 
that one must read every word to full}' appreciate the delicacy and force of 
the treatment. But we can see Bourget's method. He concerns himself 
only with the character and development of the mind, of which conduct is 
the natural outgrowth. We know beforehand that Philip will steal those 
medals, and that Dom Griffi will forgive him, like the saint that he is, 
because we know what is the nature of each. In comparison with this, the 
method of Bourget's predecessors can scarcely be called psychological at all ; 
theirs is the study of circumstances powerful in their effects upon the minds 
of men, while his is the study of those minds themselves. 

Bourget never tires of analyzing character. In his ' ' Portraits of 
Women" (p. 327) he gives us a picture of himself on the hunt: " I have 
wasted hours, seated at a table in a restaurant, crowded into the corner of 
a car, standing on the sidewalk of the street, in short, wherever the human 
animal shows himself, I have wasted hours in deciphering as best I could 


the character and destiny of creatures known to me only by the flush in the 
cheek, the folding of the lips in a smile or of the eyelids in a wink, 
the sound of the voice, gesture, costume. Wasted? Sometimes yes, 
sometimes no." And in Dorsenne, the young novelist in " Cosmopolis," 
we feel that we have a portrait of Bourget : "Dorsenne said, with truth, 
he loved to comprehend, for the sake of comprehending, as the gambler 
loves to gamble, the miser to heap up money. He possessed this craze for 
ideas which makes the philosopher and the savant. But he was a philoso- 
pher, blended by a caprice of nature with an artist, and by a caprice of 
fortune and education with the man of the world and the traveler." 

It seems as if Bourget's philosophy predominated over his art. His 
limitation to minute psychological analysis excludes from his work that 
beauty of description, that wealth of word painting which charms us in the 
rival school ; and detracts from that rapidity of movement, and the element 
of surprise, which have long been considered essential in narrative. And yet, 
is it not a higher proof of imaginative power to reveal to us the hidden 
" mental and physical mechanism " which lies behind the outward acts with 
which most writers have contented themselves? 

But, after all, does Monsieur Bourget succeed in doing this? We 
often hear the question, " Is it possible to reveal and analyze the workings 
of the mind of a character different from one's own and do it scientifically 
and adequately ? " There is a general feeling that it is not possible. Bour- 
get recognizes the popular prejudice by making many of his mind revela- 
tions in the form of journal, soliloquy, or confession. He also recognizes 
the difficulty of his task, as he hints in these eloquent words from Mon- 
sieur Legrimaudet (" Portraits d'Hommes,"p. 95) : " It has often seemed to 
me that the highest moral function of a work of art, that is a literary work, 
consisted in deepening in us the feeling of the mystery lying in the depths 
of every human being. ' The soul of another,' said Tourgenief, ' is a dark 
forest !' Ah ! 'tis a true saying." And when we pause to consider the 
impenetrablity of our neighbor's inner life, we are inclined to say that these 
creations of Bourget's are no real men and women, but puppets animated 
by the mind of the showman ; that it is Bourget's voice we hear, now loud, 
now soft ; that they are his tastes and passions masquerading. It is true 
that we do sometimes come across a resemblance in taste or thought 


between the writer and some one of his characters ; but Monsieur Bourget 
must have a many-sided nature, if it is he behind such varied characters as 
Corsegnes, the brute mad with jealousy, Christine Auroux, the ambitious 
courtesan, little Simone writing in perfect faith a letter "to Mamma in 
heaven" for the little Christ child to take back with him on Christmas Eve, 
and a hundred other characters. 

But there is a way out of the difficulty. If we believe with Emerson 
that " There is one mind common to all individual men," that the funda- 
mental emotions of every man are the same, can we not conceive it possible 
for the imagination to so combine and modify those elementary emotions as 
to construct within one's own mind a character different from one's own, 
and yet as open to introspective analysis as if it were one's own ? 
Long observation of the expression of emotion in other men, long practice 
in this chemistry of one's own emotions, may make it possible to enter into 
understanding of a real person, or to create an imaginary person as complete 
and true to life as if he were real. 

We may doubt this. But whatever our theories, we shall, upon 
making their acquaintance, be forced to admit that Bourget's men and 
women are quite as real to us as the enigmas who walk by our side and sit 
at our table. Yet, admiring his achievements, as one must, one still feels 
a certain lack in Bourget. Perhaps it is inevitable in a modern prose 
writer, a realist, a Parisian; but to Bourget, his brother man is a specimen 
of " the human animal," and he seems to exclude from his psj^chology what 
some of us are still old-fashioned enough to believe the most essential part 
of a man — the soul. 

Emily Budd Shultz, '94. 


Breezes in the tree-tops high, 
Sighing softly as you blow, 
Sing a restful lullaby ; 
Sing the sweetest song you know, 

Something slow, something low, — 


Barley heads and crested wheat, 

Swaying gently to and fro, 
Sing the music of the heat, 
Sing the drowsiest song you know, 
Something slow, something low, — 

Brooklet hidden in the grass, 

Murmuring faintly as you flow, 
Sing a sleep song while you pass; 
Sing the dreamiest song you know, 

Something slow, something low, — 

M. A. C. 


"Donald, you do write a most miserable hand!" remarked Judge 
Dennison, impatiently, as lie watched his son address a small package, the 
general appearance of which suggested the fourteenth of February. " Now, 
I should call this number 736, not 120, and Miss Caroline Hazleton might as 
well be a Miss Hutchins, so far as that scrawl could testify. Your cor- 
respondents need a long term of apprenticeship in the Dead Letter Office." 

The lad laughed merrily as he executed a final and very inky flourish. 
"Why, father," he said, "what can you expect of a fellow after four years' 
grind on note-taking and examinations? Besides, this is really more 
elaborately execrable than usual, because she mustn't guess who sent this, — 
else what would St. Valentine say?" 

The Judge shrugged his shoulders unconvinced, and departed with the 
object of his scorn, resolving, when safely out of sight, to alter the super- 
scription into a proper degree of respectability ; but an absorbing and heated 
discussion of the Chinese situation so completely turned his thoughts that he 
dropped it into a letter box without any further action. 

The postman on the route of Hawthorne Street always appreciated the 
approach of February the fourteenth, and took a mild and friendly interest 
in the distribution of all mail that seemed suggestive of the day. On this 
particular afternoon he puzzled not a little over Donald Dennison's illegible 
address. " 736 Hawthorne Street," he remarked to himself; "Miss Caroline 
Hutcheson it must be of a certain ! Who'd ha' thought it? She that seldom 


gets so much as a letter, poor soul;" and after an unusuall} r vigorous pull at 
the frail old doorbell, he delivered the mysterious package with great 
ceremony to the bewildered maiden lady who answered the summons. 
"Must be for you, ma'am," he said, " ' 736 Hawthorne Street ;'" and before 
she could collect her senses he was half way down the rickety steps making 
up for lost time. 

Miss Caroline Hutcheson closed the creaking door, and sat dowu all of 
a tremble. She carefully wiped her spectacles and scrutinized the curious 
marks. The postman must be right, but from whom could it be? All who 
ever cared for her had been dead these many years. The bare room, with 
its shabby rag carpet and pathetic attempts at ornament, faded slowly away, 
and she stood once again in the dear home circle, with a New Hampshire farm 
spreading all around and green hills looming up in the distance. She heard 
loved voices long silent ; a thousand recollections surged in upon her heart 
till it almost broke with their power. 

At last, rousing herself, she carefully opened the package and gazed 
delightedly at the dainty trifle within. Twice over she read the couplet 
borne by two chubby cupids, — 

"Accept, dear, I earnestly pray, 
My love on St. Valentine's day." 

She sat quietly for a long, long time, the gift in her hand, but her eyes 
far away. The hard lines around her lips softened ; the withered cheeks 
flushed faintly ; the setting sun touched the thin white hair with a tender 
radiance. Suddenly, rising mechanically, she took from a drawer in the old 
pine table a pasteboard box. In this she gently laid away the new 
possession side by side with a locket and several letters yellowed by age. 
Over her treasures she bent for a moment, and there were salt drops on the 
little table when the drawer was shut. 

In the next moment Miss Caroline Hutcheson had taken from her shelf 
a soup bone, intended for the morrow's meals ; she hurried out to the lean, 
unlovely cur that inhabited the tenement's back yard. " There !" she said 
emphatically, as she presented the bone to his snarling teeth, "you didn't 
expect a valentine, — and no more did I ! " 

Alice Welch Kellogg. 



"The saints defend me !" growled Pierre le Grave, ruminating, with 
pipe between his teeth, before the door of a cottage unpainted and un- 
thatched. Heavy and stolid was his face, with its watery, deep-set eyes 
and bulging forehead. Fiercely it glowered as with a clench of the teeth 
which broke his clay pipe he reiterated, "The saints defend me, if I don't 
buy that pig ! " Relieved by this outburst he picked up the broken pieces 
of clay, pocketed them, and, with cap pulled low over his forehead, shuffled 
down the road. 

The poplars on each side of the path shimmered dejectedly in the heat 
of a hio-h June sun. The level stretch of sand gleamed hot and hard 
beneath the feet of the peasant, who trod there with a determined air. 

Mere le Grave, leaving her work in the carrot patch, shaded her eyes 
and watched her husband walk away. The sight filled her with a sense of 
weariness and of despair. She knew not why the dejected trees, the intense 
blaze of the sun, the long, monotonous road, with Pierre trudging along, ob- 
stinate and sullen, seemed a picture, of her life, as it had always been, as it 
would always be. Instinctively she returned to work. Around her the 
crisp, green leaves, with their golden roots, were heaped high, but she saw 
them not. She saw only a long, hard path, upon which walked a man, 
with scowling face and dogged eye. 

She was working there in the dim glow of the evening, when Pierre le 
Grave returned, dragging by a rope a pig, which waddled unwillingly 
along, and grunted with alarm at each pull of its halter. Mere le Grave 
glanced up and saw the newcomer. Her dull hair and duller eye seemed 
suddenly afire from the anger which had long smouldered within her. With 
arms tightly clasped she hissed, "You — you've used the money I saved 
for the thatch." She slowly turned around, entered the cottage, and 
vengefully poked the coals of peat in the hearth. 

Her money — the money for which she had patiently worked, for which 
she had often gone hungry — was wasted on that great, useless beast. She 
could see the stains of rain which had oozed through the scanty thatch 
and trickled down the wall. She shuddered as she thought of the winter, 


of the dampness and the cold, which she must bear. Suddenly she heard 
a grunt at her side, and looking around saw the pig standing there, with a 
look of pain iu its small eyes, with an ugly scar on its side. "At it so 
soon!" she muttered. "Xo: you are mine; you were bought with my 
francs, and shall at least be decently treated." Then, stretching out her 
hand, she timidly stroked the rough hah- of her ungainly companion. 

From that instant she became its protector. She fenced off a corner 
of the small garden for its exclusive use. She daily brought it a supply of 
cabbage leaves ; she hourly visited it to listen with delight to the snorts of 
content. With her fondness for the beast grew her husband's hatred of it. 
He protested against her extravagance ; he opposed her unceasing care. 
Many were his contrivances for bringing pain and discomfort to his formid- 
able rival, but the fierceness of Mere le Grave, her ominous silence and 
fire-darting eyes, warned him that not in this way could she be brought to 
her former passive submission. The only thing to be done was to make 
way with the pig, which had now become her idol. 

Early one morning he stole from the cottage. The huge red sun, just 
peering above the horizon, cast a bloody light over the garden. The large 
knife flourished by Pierre le Grave gleamed a wicked red. All things 
seemed inflamed with passion, tense with excitement, save only the victim, 
who lay in his pen, lazily blinking his eyes. Pierre gave a final flourish to 
his murderous weapon, and held it poised for the fatal plunge, when before 
him appeared his wile. She did not speak; her look was all-sufficient. 
Pierre cowered, his arm slowly dropped, and hastily he slunk away. 

Mere le Grave then led the slow-moving creature forth from his pen- 
into the road, down which they walked — never to return. This time the 
pig willingly followed his leader : the poplars joyfully murmured of freedom, 
the sun warmly smiled, and the cool breeze of morning gently whispered of 

In after days Mere le Grave, standing in the doorway of her tidy, 
well-thatched cottage, would shake her fist at a man passing ragged and 
bent. Then she would call down blessings upon her deliverer, the pig, 
who rooted contentedly among the bright sunflowers by the gate. 

C. AY. J.. '95. 



(Translated from Goethe.) 


Thou who in the heaven art, 
Who all pain and sorrow stillest, 

Him who hath the saddest heart, 
Doubly with Thy comfort fillest. 

I am weary with endeavor! 

To what end this wild unrest? 
Lord, from me these doubts dissever, 

Dwell, oh, dwell within my breast! 

Edith May, '97. 


The girl in the brown hat saw only the beginning of it. She walked 
briskly down Summer Street, past row upon row of fruit trays, hurried into 
the New York and New England depot, and pushed the door of the ladies' 
room wide open. Everybody in the apartment shivered, but the girl in the 
brown hat did not notice. She sat down in a rocking-chair, and slanted her 
wet umbrella against a neighboring table. Moll glowered at her, and looked 
indignantly at the tracks which the girl's wet boots had made across the floor. 

There was a baby on the other side of the waiting-room, and its hands 
were well covered with the stickiness of a very damp piece of candy. Its face 
was dirty, too, but that item passed unnoticed in comparison with the hands. 

There were one or two working women clustered together in a corner, 
but Moll herself, in the center of the room, with the gaslight shining down, 
was the really noticeable figure. One can see her almost any time at the 
New York and New England depot. Her hair is so pale a yellow that it 
glitters almost white, and she does it at the back in a queerly shaped knot 
which shows how little of it there is. Moll always wears a short, black skirt, 
with a black knitted jacket above. Her mouth is always moving as if she 
were chewing gum, and usually an absolute indifference characterizes her 
every movement. This night she was extraordinarily irritable, and was 
betrayed into various signs of emotion. 

The baby with the sticky hands staggered carefully on its uncertain little 
feet, until it stood close beside the stove. " Ugh," said it to the girl in the 


brown hat. The girl smiled, and the baby, much encouraged, held out its 
scrap of candy. "Oh, how sticky !" said the girl in the brown hat. The 
girl always insists that she began it, for if she and the baby had not con- 
versed, Moll would never have noticed the bab} T . You see, Moll was 
altogether too much engrossed with her indignation against the girl for daring 

a c c -^ o c 

to be wet. It was pouring hard out of doors ; but what had that to do with 
it? Moll was quite as angry as if it had been fair weather. 

The baby withdrew its offered morsel, and lost itself in interested con- 
templation of its own pink palms. Moll beckoned to it, and basely forsaking 
the girl in the brown hat, it swa}'ed cheerfully across the room. Moll lifted 
it with a half sarcastic smile and carried it into the dressing room. She 
washed and dried the stick}' hands and face, and parted the hair above the 
baby's forehead. It looked up at her all the time with two wide, deep-gray 
eyes. Its hair and lashes were of a deeper yellow than Moll's own. It was 
dressed in a very much patched woolen gown, which was not wholly hidden 
by its worn outer garment. The latter was of gray, and betrayed even" 
indication of an originally poor constitution. Moll's hard, world-knowing 
eyes took the facts all in at a glance. Her fingers lingered caressingly in the 
midst of the baby's hair. "What's your name?" she whispered; but the 
baby only smiled at her with the same wide-open eyes. Moll led it back to 
the waiting room. 

"Norwood, Norwood Central, and way stations. Accommodation train 
leaving at six twenty," called the voice at the door, and Moll never noticed 
as the girl in the brown hat went out. There was a pool of dark water on 
the floor where the wet umbrella had rested, but Moll was not in the least 
indignant. She was watching a sleeping child. 

The people in the waiting room came and went, and the hours crept 
slowlj- onward. No one claimed the bab}', and Moll began to wonder. 
After ten o'clock she prepared herself to leave. The waiting room was 
quite empty, and the passageway outside was inhabited only by a sleepy 
newsboy. Moll took the baby into her arms and went out ; she wrapped it 
closely under her shawl, and carried it quietly home. 

■•Moll," said the woman from the package ofBce, coming into the 
waiting room the next morning. Moll leaned indifferenth* upon her broom, 
and as indifferently looked up. "They say there was an odd-looking man 


in here last night, asking if we had seen a lost baby. I told them I was 
sure I hadn't, and I didn't suppose you had, or you'd said something about 
it before you left the depot." 

Moll shook her head in a way which might have meant anything, but 
which in reality meant nothing. "Pretty sort of a man to forget his own 
baby," said she, sarcastically. 

" It wasn't his own, at all, it seems," said the woman ; "it was a little 
one from the orphan asylum he was carrying out into the country to be 
brought up on a farm. Some old farmer's wife, out his way, took a fancy 
to having a child around ; and 'twas rather a nice chance for one, I should 
say, from all I hear. Nice home and good care, and maybe a chance of 
inheriting some property or other, by and by. It's a queer world," said she, 
as she went out. 

Moll went calmly on with her sweeping ; in her heart she was not calm 
at all. She was suffering ; she had grown very much used to that, it seemed 
to her. " To think I should have let myself take a fancy to that child," she 
meditated. "Love at first sight," she murmured, and smiled grimly at 
herself. She went out and asked a question or two about the man. 

" He's coming back here, this evening to see if we hear anything," 
said the ticket agent ; and Moll went back again to her work. At noon she 
took a little run down to her lodgings. She climbed breathlessly up the 
rough stairway with exactly the same look of indifference as it was her wont 
to wear. The baby was sitting in the middle of the floor, and Tilly McClean, 
who had been hired to care for her, was asleep on the rug beside her. The 
baby crept eagerly toward Moll as she opened the door, and it held up its 
hands to be taken. Moll put it in the rocking-chair, and sat down very 
gravely opposite it. "It would be a good thing for you," said she to the 
baby, in an interval between Tilly's snores. The baby looked reflectively at 
Moll. " It would be a heap better than ever I could do for you ;" the baby 
looked doubtful. A little grimace passed over Moll's face, to be succeeded 
by a cynical smile. She was thinking of the loveless life she lived. She 
had always, it seemed to her, been loving and unloved. Love is so rare 
that it cannot be bought, and yet so cheap that it is thrown away. 

Moll woke Tilly, and gave directions in regard to the baby's dinner. 
" Bring the baby down to me at the station, somewhere about half after four," 


she said. The baby cried when Moll went away, and Moll couldn't see any 
reason why. She was even more indifferent than usual that afternoon, and 
when the baby was brought down by Tilly she did not even smile. She had 
notified all the station agents to the effect that the child was found, but she 
offered no explanation. 

When the man came to take the baby she fastened its little cloak and 
tied its tiny muffler with an absolutely expressionless face. The baby put 
its arms around her neck and cried at being pushed away. She put it quickly 
into the man's ulstered arms. 

"Look-a-here," said the man, in an embarrassed sort of a fashion. 
Moll walked unheedingly away. "Here!" said he again; and Moll, still 
retreating, turned her face half angrily toward him. There were tears in 
her hard blue eyes. 

For the next few weeks things went on very much as usual. The girl 
in the brown hat came through the waiting room quite often, and Moll wished 
she would stay away. Somehow, too, the girl in the brown hat never did 
look apologetic. Moll considered that she might, at least, be sorry; neither 
she nor the girl would have known for what. 

It was about six weeks afterward that Moll heard again from the baby. 
The odd-looking man came bustling into the station. ' ' Where's that woman ?" 
he asked the attendant at the package office, — "the woman with the light 
hair." Some one hunted up Moll for him, and he told her about the baby. 
" I rather imagined you cared a good deal about it," he said, to Moll's sur- 
prise ; "and I thought I would run in and tell you that there's a place down 
there for a woman to do housework in the same house with the baby. They 
always have help 'long toward spring, and all through the haying time." 
He gave Moll a name and an address, and went hurrying busily off. 

Moll sat down that night after she got home and laboriously wrote a 
letter. Two days later she got an answer. 

She goes indifferently about her work at the station, and looks exactly 
the same. The girl in the brown hat comes in quite as often, but Moll has 
finally grown to like her. She no longer sweeps the wrong corner, and 
covers the girl with dust. The girl for her part smiles a little, for she 
knows so much more than that for which Moll gives her credit. She knows 
that next spring there is a big joy coming for indifferent Moll ; that the 


New York and New England station will no longer have about it the bright 
hair and the weary, willing feet, but out in the glorious country air Moll 
will be reading the love of two wide gray eyes, and will know at last for her 
very own the touch of two darling hands. 

Lillian Quinby. 


What will her blue eyes say when she sees 

My heart like a bud open toward her? 
How will her lips sing the love songs that ring 

O'er the petals from border to border? 

How will her hair linger low on her face, 

And brood in soft sympathy over 
The grace of her brow, and the wondering eyes 

That the shadowing lashes cover? 

Will her pitying heart unfold its white veil, 
When the sighs through the sad rose leaves flutter, 

Ere the petals swoon in their sorrow and die 
With the odor of love they would utter ? 

Florence Annette Wing, '92. 

Poor Cupid froze his wings one day, 
When winds were cold and skies were gray, 

And clouds with snow were laden. 
A little maid was passing by ; 
She caught the rogue, — he could not fly, — 

Oh naughty little maiden ! 

She sent him off with sharpen' d dart, 
To steal for her a certain heart; 

But, oh the mishap stupid ! 
Since Cupid's blind, and cannot see, 
He went astray, and came to me. 

Oh naughty little Cupid ! 

So that is why my heart is gone, 
And I am dreary and forlorn, 

With tears my eyes are laden. 
She does not want my heart — ah no ! 
I did not wish to have it go; 

Oh Cupid, and oh maiden ! 

Gertrude Jones, '95. 



" Education is the development of the attitude of the child toward 
truth." In order to teach well one must first understand something of the 
child, then of the various aspects of truth toward which the mind of the 
child naturally turns. Colonel Parker begins his * Talks on Pedagogics 
with the question, " What is the child?" and presents a discussion of the 
organism, spontaneous activities and unlimited, capacities of this miniature 
" sum of the world." 

The child usually comes under the influence of teachers when it is 
about six year's old, having already begun unconsciously to observe, to 
compare, to judge, to reason, to imagine, to create. The germ of every 
science and every art has begun to unfold, and is ready for the skillful 
teacher to bring it to flower. The essential unity of all departments of 
thought, and the ethical nature of all true education, make it inevitable that 
mental power and character building shall go hand in hand. Study of all 
creation — of " the starry heavens without and the moral man within " — is 
education, but the acquisition of formal knowledge, of isolated information, 
of disconnected facts, is barren, and serves rather to stultify than to 
develop. All study is the study of the Creator through his works, — of 
Divine law made manifest. There is no classification in nature : truth is not 
tabulated or scheduled, and one knows botany, physics, chemistry, geog- 
raphy, history and philosophy in proportion as one knows a house of blocks, 
a kitten, or " flower in the crannied wall." Every object contains, 
directly or by implication, material for a full university curriculum, and 
every child is an animated interrogation point. Shall we give the three R's 
in answer to his eternal "Why?" " Whatman is there of you, whom if his 
son ask bread, will he give him a stone?" 

The child naturally reaches after truth. The function of the teacher is 
to present such conditions as to enable it to attain as much of truth as it can 
grasp, and always see more beyond. "Our reach should be beyond our 

*Talks on Pedagogics: An Outline of the Theory of Concentration. By Francis W. 
Parker, Principal Cook County Normal School, Chicago. Published by E. L. Kellogg & Co., 
New York and Chicago. 


grasp, or what's a heaven for?" The question what the child shall study, 
is fully answered only when the limitations of the child are reached. 
Continue that which is begun, and continue over the shortest road to 
knowledge. Study the child ; enable him to work out his own salvation 
with the least possible waste, and keep in mind the constant development 
of body, mind and soul. 

The central subjects of study are grouped under four heads : (a) Ge- 
ography, Geology and Mineralogy, sciences of inorganic matter ; (b) 
Physics and Chemistry, the laws of movement and change of inorganic 
matter; (c) Botany, Zoology, Anthropology, Ethnology, and History, 
sciences of organic matter and life ; (<i) Physiology, the Physics and 
Chemistry of living organisms. All these branches are presented to the 
child's mind as soon as he begins to think, and he studies them instinctively 
through the very nature of his spontaneous activities. We direct his atten- 
tion now to one, now to another of these phases of creation ; but if we forget 
that the universe is one, as all truth is one, manifested through mind and 
matter by harmonious law, we bring confusion and complication in our train, 
instead of order, unity, and reason. 

The test of teaching is character. If sharpening senses and awakening 
intellect are witnessed by conduct, the child is being educated. The too 
prevalent custom of marking advancement in education by the numbers of text- 
books " gone over," instead of by the development of faculty ; the tendency 
to know what has been said about things, instead of knowing- things them- 
selves, — these are the natural results of fostering quantitative ideals. " Take 
care of the quality," Colonel Parker admonishes, " and the quantity will take 
care of itself." Quality of mental action is better than quantity of acquired 
information, and the greater includes the less as its logical outcome. To 
measure by words, pages, and days ; to threaten, to scold, to punish, to 
control by fear; even worse, to bribe with per cents, rewards and prizes — 
to teach and accept lip service ; is to fall below the standard educational 
ethics of our day, and to stand for the methods of medieval inquisition, 
rather than the principles of modern scientific teaching. 

" Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." The 
one thought that the mind must reach freedom through truth over the line 
of least resistance, is kept before the reader throughout. To find that line 


of least resistance is the aim of these Talks. Careful analyses of the vai'ious 
modes of judgment, expression, and attention are presented, and practical 
suggestions as to training in the schoolroom are sketched in broad lines. 
Thirty years' experience as an educator, and especially the last twelve years 
at Normal Park, have enabled Colonel Parker to thoroughly test his princi- 
ples, and to work out in practice the soundness of principles that at first 
sight seem " too good to be true." 

The main proposition of the Theory of Concentration is in direct line 
with the teachings of the great Froebel, and is comprehended in the state- 
ment that all true education is inherent^ moral and ethical. The funda- 
mental principle of education is the development of the altruistic motive, 
under which the highest and best mental action may be acquired. 

The concluding chapter traces the relation between democracy and the 
free public school, and illustrates by historic allusions the antithesis between 
authority, aristocracy, and tradition on the one hand, and freedom, de- 
mocracy, and reason on the other. Teaching from text-books, citing 
authorities, cramming the young with arbitrary " facts," — these are methods 
which produce tyrants and serfs, "divine right "and diabolic wrong. To 
inspire the belief that each child is capable of original thought, of personal 
judgment, and of a share of governing power, is to teach that societ}' can 
rule itself, and to nourish democracy at its roots. " Children think and 
kings tremble." 

The study of Colonel Parker's book cannot be too highly recommended 
to teachers and prospective teachers. There was a time when the possibility 
of a science of education was in question. That day is now past. The 
science of sciences is evolving before our eyes, and Colonel Parker's book is 
one of the lights that mark its progress. All who feel the responsibilities 
of enlarging and perfecting our democratic ideals, especially the ideals of 
that embryonic democracy, the commou school, will be stimulated and en- 
couraged to better effort by " Talks on Pedagogics." Most of it is valuable 
to the general reader as well as to teachers and parents, for the breadth of 
view characterizing the work makes one see all life in education, and edu- 
cation in all life. 

Agnes Sinclair Holbrook. 



Books of travel, it is said, are fast becoming things of the past. The 
classes which twenty years ago constituted a reading public for literary 
wanderers, now seek to discover for themselves new attractions in the Old 
World ; and, as a consequence, tales of foreign lands, unless possessing 
peculiar merit, go begging for purchasers. 

It is rather significant, however, that the American, who supposedly 
knows his own country as well as he knows Europe, is willing to listen to 
those rapid journeyers from abroad who spend three or four weeks in hurry- 
ing through the United States, and then, if not before, are ready to formulate 
their opinions with regard to this young republic. As a race we are pro- 
verbially curious, so it is not strange that we "want to know" what Lord 
Fitznoodle or Monsieur So and So, Avhoever the latest comer may be, thinks 
of us and our institutions ; but even this thirst for knowledge, to dignify the 
trait, hardly accounts for the serious way in which we treat caricatures of 
much that we should hold dear in our patriotic heart of hearts. 

Usually it is true that these travelers, who are so ready with their 
criticisms, are clever men, whose observations are keen and well expressed. 
Their views have weight at home, we argue, and therefore ought to be 
com-teously received here. So we accept with respectful humility what our 
friendly portrayers have to say, laughing at their well-founded jokes, and 
passing by overdrawn statements with little protest. 

So far as we ourselves are affected this indifference is excusable ; we can 
afford "to see oursel's as ithers see us," because all the time we know what 
we really are. But it is against the general acceptance of these sketches in 
Paris and London as absolutely true, that objections may well be raised. No 
visitor to our country can possibly have more than the merest surface 
impressions, determined largely by the people with whom he happens to 
associate during his stay. Moreover, the man who makes a tour of our 
cities only, does not see the real nation at all ; for since the great mechanism 
of city life must of necessity be somewhat the same in every land, it is to the 


interior, to the towns and rural regions, that one must look for the develop- 
ment of purely American characteristics. 

Then, too, when these critics do give a few hours of careful study ( !).to 
some special phase of American life, they are likely to fall into errors of 
judgment or influence. They exaggerate even when they pride themselves 
upon being fair. Take as an example of this half-unconscious exaggeration 
the "Outre Mer" of Monsieur Paul Bouraet. Combining as he does an 
entertaining style with the Frenchman's gift for flattery, M. Bourget is often 
delightfully complimentary; his reference to "the words of wisdom which 
fall from the pink lips of the Wellesley girl," for instance, is certainly 
gallant. But the fact remains that some of the things he has written con- 
cerning us and our "College Beautiful," although pleasant, are, to say the 
least, original. We are scarcely able to recognize ourselves in those 
irresponsible beings who come and go as they please, appear at recitations in 
" lilac silk gowns with gold belts," and "receive their Cambridge and Boston 
friends in a magnificent ballroom (i. e., the gymnasium) on Saturday 

Still, on the whole, it must be admitted that M. Bourget has drawn an 
interesting if not accurate picture of our little community. Indeed, if his 
pen had been as considerate throughout the entire work as it was in this and 
certain other chapters, we might feel less inclined to complain that our cousins 
across the sea are to form many ideas concerning us through this attempted 
interpretation of America and Americans. 


The growing interest in public afl'airs has been well illustrated during 
the past year by the wave of municipal reform that seems to be passing over 
the country. This increasing interest is further embodied in the reorganized 
work of the "American Institute of Civics." 

The object of this Institute, which was incorporated under the laws of 
Congress in 1886, is, "Good Government Through Good Citizenship." To 
further this object the Department of Popular Work was organized, and it 
is the latter which has recently been reorganized under the new name of 
Extension Department. The work of this new department is the formation 


of clubs in all parts of the country. The object of these clubs, as expressed 
in the little pamphlet sent out by the Institute, is, "A systematic, careful 
study of current events, especially by an intelligent reading of the daily 
and weekly newspapers, with the end in view of arousing a more intelli- 
gent understanding of civic duty and a more virile patriotism." 

As a means of communication among the various clubs, each week a page 
of ' ' Public Opinion " will be devoted to the interests of this deserving effort, 
and under the title of "Civics," those who are interested in the work will 
find its methods and progress discussed. 


Midwixtek may be a time of traditional gloom, when the dearth of all 
things seems fitly typified by the absence of life without and the burden of 
impending examinations within, yet it is not without its compensation. 

The dismal rain and thaw of one day is seized and transformed by night, 
and a smiling morning hands back the athletic field a tract of smooth ice. 
The sight of swiftly moving forms, the sound of laughter and ringing steel, 
rob the season of its imagined terrors and change it into a time of festivity. 
All day, while the field and lake sparkle back at the sun, the invigorating 
sport continues, until the quiet light of early evening comes and goes, and 
the new moon rises to show where the day died. 

With clear head and fresh courage the student resumes her task, blessing 
the vigorous breath of old winter, who so successfully laid the evil spirit of 
the times. 


Each season returns with its well-known aspect, and perhaps no one 
more than the editor longs to wring from the unchanging features some 
new thought. Examinations have passed, and again we have learned that in 
anticipation they were far more terrible than in .actual realization. On 
the strength of past experience why not, from this time, change the traditional 
character of the mid-year examinations into a season of reasonable mirth and 
expectation of fair results. 



Nothing at Wellesley fills me with more pain and sorrow than the reck- 
less extravagance among students in the matter of buying flowers. I realize 
fully how much flowers mean to us, — that they bring an element of gracious- 
ness and sweetness into our lives ; that they, in part, satisfy the craving for 
beauty which is strong within us all. Granting this, the question still remains, 
how far is it right to indulge ourselves ? 

The point that really concerns me is the lack of responsibility in spend- 
ing money. Where can we look, if not to college women, for temperance 
and restraint, for the ethical use of life's gifts ? We all of us long sometimes 
to send flowers to a sick friend ; we feel so impotent to do for her, or to 
express the sympathy within us. But in our heart of hearts we know that 
we shall be false to our stewardship if we make the gift. A higher altruism 
restrains. It is only gamblers and embezzlers who can afford always to be 
generous, who are willing to divert money from its legitimate ends. 

I sometimes wonder whether Wellesley girls feel any responsibility at 
all about money, about the duty of saving in order to give to the support of 
worthy causes. It seems to me that if they did, they would respond more 
generously to the needs of their own college. Why do not the class organ- 
izations start a "flower fund," and ask every member to give fifty cents a 
year (saved from flowers) for the support of some bright girl in college? 
In other colleges the undergraduates all tax themselves to support a scholar- 
ship or two ; for who can testify so well as they to the priceless value of a 
college education? I know one college where the students are continually 
giving entertainments and concerts for the library ; where a girl who goes 
abroad for the summer never thinks of coming back without bringing a 
present of books for the library, just as she brings presents for her friends. 
It gives students in that college a just pride of ownership to pick up books 

in the library and see on the label within : Given by , Class of ; 

or, Given by Students in History, Course . How often do students at 

Wellesley, in a course for which books have to be brought out from the 
Athemeum in Boston, at the cost of much time and trouble, club together to 


buy that book, so that it shall be accessible to future generations of students 
in our own library ? How often do they buy a duplicate copy of a book 
which it is absolutely impossible to get hold of when the whole class is re- 
ferred to it? One need not be rich to do little things like these. The 
flower money will accomplish it. 


It has seemed to many of the students that the playing of the organ 
during study hour is not conducive to scholarly work. Such serious 
subjects as "Who wrote the Book of Hezekiah?" and "Do Animals 
Think?" refuse to adapt themselves well to the music. Those who are 
musically inclined, And themselves humming little tunes and keeping 
vigorous time with their feet ; while those who are not musical are unap- 
preciative enough to say that it makes them "nervous." It is a fact that 
the sounds, in coming down from above, lose something of their sweetness, 
and one often hears the deep bass rumbling tones without the middle and 
upper ones which make up the chords. The effect of this as it reaches the 
galleries — the sanctum of the junior forensic — is much like the peculiar thrill 
which one receives at some distance from a fire engine in full play. 

It may be that a change in regard to this is impossible. The writer 
believes that there is no one who does not associate the organ with some of 
the pleasantest hours of her college life, and it is always a pleasure to know 
of an increased number of students in this department ; but if it could be 
made at all practicable, many among us would be grateful if the practicing 
could be confined at least to the early part of the day, before the strain of 
library work has reached its height. 



The exchanges for this month furnish a number of articles on matters 
of especial interest to the undergraduate world. 

"Our Athletic Independence," in the Yale Literary Magazine for 
December, is a subject of absorbing, though local, interest. The January 
number contains a most enjoyable essay on the "Evolution of the Bluff," 


as illustrated in college life. The Columbia Literary Monthly furnishes us 
a vivid picture of " Student Life at King's College," revealed to the genera- 
tion of to-day by the "Book of Misdemeanors," in which are recorded in 
detail the sins of our ancestors and their punishments. The college govern- 
ment, as illustrated by the quaint old "black book," stands in strong con- 
trast to that which Professor Salmon discusses iu the Vassar Miscellany. 
Her article sets ' ' College Government " before us in a scholarly manner, 
distinouishino- the college as an institution of learning and the college as a 
social community. Professor Salmon recognizes that, in all educational 
matters, the college must be an absolute monarchy as regards the student 
body : but she argues that as a social community the college should be a 
democracy, in whose government each member of the community, whether 
faculty, student, or official, should have a voice. 

A feature of the Miscellany is a summary of important books, maga- 
zine articles, and addresses written by the faculty and alumna 1 of Vassar. 
The editors announce the publication hereafter of such a summary in every 
January number. 

The Columbia Literary Monthly departs somewhat from the usual run 
of college writing, by publishing essays on musical subjects : one, in the 
December number, on Handel's "Messiah:" another, in the January num- 
ber, on "The Development of the Art of Violin Making in Italy." 

We clip the following examples of midwinter poetry : — 


Through the starless waste of night. 

Brooding o'er the sleeping land, 
Silent falls the drifting snow, 

Scattered from an unseen hand 
0*er the meadows brown and sere 
And the forests lone and drear. 

Thus through all the gloomy night. 

Till the morn breaks clear and fair. 
Fall the white-winged flakes of snow 

Over hill and meadow bare. 
With a cloak of dazzling white, 
Covering nakedness and blight. 

— Brunoiiian. 




The snowflake dropping gently down, 
Is free from trouble and unrest. 
No hatreds rise within its breast, 

No passions urge, no sorrows drown. 

My tired heart longs for such release, 
White snowflake, longs for rest from fears, 
Eelease from jealousies and tears — 

Would that I knew thy heavenly peace. 

Alas, thy peace! Thy spirit, still 
From sorrow's throes and envy's start, 
Ne'er felt the throbbing of a heart, 

Nor knew of love the rapturous thrill. 

No passion rises in a breast 

Of ice, by winter's grasp controlled. 
I would not have a heart so cold ; 

Then welcome, trouble and unrest ! 


These snowfiakes here, so white, so cold, 
Winded away o'er the gusty wold, 
These are the vows by fond hearts graven 
On the azure cope of a summer's heaven 
That perjured since have frozen bright; 
But pure as when with passion dight 

They first were born. 
Fair, faithless forms in death congealed, 
To the dregs of earth they've slowly settled 

This windy winter morn. 

— Wesleyan Lit. 



Odes and Epodes of Horace, edited with introduction and notes by 
Clement Lawrence Smith. Boston: Ginn & Co. $1.60. 

College Requirements in English. Second Series, by Arthur Went- 
worth Eaton. Boston: Ginn & Co. $1.20. 

Scientific German Reader, by George Theodore Dippold. 
Ginn & Co. $1.00. 

Boston : 



The regular meeting of the Phi Sigma Society was held on January 19, 
in Society Hall. The following programme was given : — 

The Emphasis on Psychology in the Writ- 
ings of Bourget ..... Emily Budd Shultz. 

Song ..... 

The Treatment of the Abnormal 

Piano Solo .... 

Character Development in Mary E 
kins and Mrs. Slosson . 

Clara von Wettburg. 


Marsaret Hollev. 

l &" 

The regular meeting of the Zeta Alpha Society was held in Society 
Hall, January 12. The following programme was given : — 


I. Theories of Ruskin and Kingsley . Emily H. Brown, '96. 
II. A Study of William Morris . Elizabeth G. Evans, '97. 

III. The Social Tendencies in the Modern 

Novel Bertha Trebein, '97. 

IV. Traces of Socialism in the English 

Poetry of the Nineteenth Century, 

Alice Welch Kellogg, '94. 

On February 2 the following programme was given : — 


I. The Relation of Municipal Reform 

to Socialism . . . Cornelia Huntington, '95. 

II. The Influence of Woman's Suffrage 

on Socialism .... Catherine Collins, '94. 

III. The Ideals of Socialism . . Winifred Augsbury, '95. 

IV. Discussion ..... 


The regular programme meeting of the Classical Society was held 
December 19. The subject for the evening was Tacitus, and the following* 
programme was presented : — 

Life of Tacitus ...... Annie Leonard. 

The Literary Art of Tacitus .... Mabel Rand. 

Selections : 

a (In Latin) The Death of Paetus, History . Professor Lord. 
b (In translation) The Fire at Rome, Annals . Irene Kahn. 

A regular meeting of the Shakespeare Society was held in Shakespeare 
Hall, Saturday evening, February 2. The following programme on Hamlet 
was given : — 

Shakespeare News ...... Mary Allen. 


Talk : Contrast of Gertrude and Ophelia . . Elizabeth Snyder. 

Dramatic Representation. Act IV. Scene 5. 

Polonius and the King ..... Elizabeth Adams. 

w tt i +■ a 9 5 Affirmative, Christie Brooks, 

vv as xlamier mao. . . . . -vr , » /^m • » • ^ -* 

I .Negative, Christine Caryl. 

Dramatic Representation. Act III. Scene 1. 

The regular meeting of the Agora was held January 19. After the 
impromptu speeches on 

1. The Strikes in the United States . . Gertrude Devol, '97, 

2. The New President of France . . Arline Smith, '95, 

3. The Terms of the Peace Proposal of 

Japan ...... Helena DeCou, '96, 

the following programme was presented : — 

The Water Supply and Lighting of the City, Elizabeth Ziegler, '96. 
Transportation in the City . . . Miriam Hathaway, '97. 

Drainage of the City .... Alice Howe, '95. 


A regular meeting of Tau Zeta Epsilon was held Saturday evening, 
January 19. The subject of the evening was Berlin, and the following 
programme was given : — 

Berlin and its Suburbs ..... Alberta Welch. 

The University ...... Fannie Austin. 

The Berlin Art Collection .... Edith Meade. 

The City Government ..... May Kellogg. 

A talk on the Pre-Raphaelite Painters was given by Miss Jackson as an 
introduction to the work of the society for the coming half year. 


Sunday, February 3. — Dr. A. E. Dunning, of Boston, preaches in Chapel. 

Monday, February 4. — Lecture. Dr. John Fiske. 

Saturday, February 9. — Concert. Beethoven Society. 

Sunday, February 10. — Rev. F. Mason North, of New York City, preaches. 

Monday, February 11. — Lecture. Mr. Hamilton W. Mabie. 

Saturday, February 16. — Parliament. 

Sunday, February 17. — Prof. A. R. Merriam, of Hartford, Conn. 

Monday, February 18. — Pupils' Concert. 

Friday, February 22. — Glee Club Concert. 

Sunday, February 24. — Prof. D. G. Lyon, of Cambridge. 

Monday, February 25. — Lecture. Professor Cross. 


College work was resumed on January 10, after the three weeks' vacation 
for the holidays. 

During vacation time Miss Coman lectured at Rutgers College, New 
Brunswick, N. J. This was the first of a series of lectures to be given by 
eminent women. 

Miss May Brooks and Miss Alice Boarman did not return after 


On Saturday afternoon, January 12, Prof. H. Morse Stephens, of 
Cornell, late of Oxford, lectured on "The Thermidorians," before Miss 
Coman's classes in the history of the French Revolution. Each girl was 
permitted to bring a guest. Professor Stephens gave a charming lecture 
that evening, in the Chapel, upon "Robespierre." He was entertained at 
Norumbega over Sunday. 

The regular monthly missionary meeting of the Christian Association, 
was held on Sunday evening, January 13. Dr. Hagopian, of Armenia, 
addressed the meeting. 

On Monday afternoon, January 14, the class of '95 gave a reception to 
the Faculty in honor of Mrs. Durant. The reception was held in the Art 

Miss Gertrude Gushing, '92, who spent the summer and fall abroad, will 
be at college for Graduate work durino- the second semester. 

The Beethoven Society held a social in the gymnasium on Monday 
evening, January 14. 

The examinations began on January 19, closing Wednesday, January 
30. Certain student members of the College have been heard to say that 
they really enjoyed exams, this year. 

The new Chemistry building is at last completed, and will be opened at 
the beo'innino- of the semester. 

A vesper service in memory of President Shafer was held in the Chapel 
on January 20. The Beethoven Society sang. 

On January 25 Miss Caroline Miles was married to Mr. William Hill, 
of the Chicago University. They sailed for Europe on January 30. Miss 
Calkins is able to take Miss Miles's classes. 

Miss Susan Hawley, '94, spent Sunday, January 27, at the College. 

On January 28 Mrs. Durant gave a reception at her home in Boston to 
the members of the Faculty, in honor of Mrs. Irvine and Miss Stratton. 
Miss Kelsey, Miss James, and Miss Bessie Smith, of the Clasfe of '95, were 


Miss Gertrude Rushrnore, '97, left college on February 4. She will 
spend the remainder of the winter in California. 

Miss Emily B. Shultz, '94, spent the week beginning January 26 with 
her friends at college. 


A meeting of the Wellesley Club of New York was held at the residence 
of Dr. Emma Willcox, 226 West 104th Street, on Saturday, December 15. 
There were a goodly number present, and the meeting was one of unusual 
interest. An entertaining letter from the College, written for the benelit of 
the Club by Miss May Merrill, was read. Announcement had been made 
that there would be conversation on the "Trend of the Modern Novel." Most 
of those present, however, were pleasantly surprised to hear that instead of 
the formal discussion that they had anticipated, the only conditions imposed 
were that everyone should converse with her neighbors, whether she were 
acquainted with them or not, and that she should endeavor to talk with sev- 
eral persons before the expiration of the time allotted. Judged from the 
apparent enjoyment of everyone present the plan was eminently successful 
socially, and doubtless also intellectually, though the delightful informality 
that prevailed permitted many a personality and reminiscence of " lang syne" 
to creep in among one's literary opinions. A brief business meeting fol- 
lowed, at which reports were presented and accepted from the Committee on 
Work for the year, and the Committee on Revision of Membership Lists. 
Miss Martha H. McFarland was elected to fill the vacancy on the Executive 
Committee, caused by the resignation of Miss McLean, and Miss Marie Jad- 
wid to fill the vacancy on the Reception Committee, made by the resignation 
of Miss Grofi'. It was resolved to hold a special meeting in January, at which 
some plan for the benefit of the Students' Aid Society of Wellesley College 
should be carried out, the details being left to the Executive Committee. 

The seventh annual reunion of the Washington Wellesley Association 
was held on Friday afternoon, December 28, with Miss Campbell, '94, at 
her home, 1741 N Street, N. W. The officers elected for the next year were 
as follows : President, Miss Harriet J. Buchly, '85-89 ; Vice President, 
Mrs. C. G. Lee, "77— "78 : Secretary, Miss Julia M. Green, "93: Treasurer, 


Miss Lewanna Wilkins, '91 ; Chairman of the Business Committee, Miss 
Isabella Campbell, '94. Later in the afternoon, when the guests had arrived, 
swelling the whole number to thirty-seven, a short programme was given, 
and then a pleasant, informal reception closed the reunion. After the wel- 
come extended to all by the President, Mrs. Swormstedt, Miss Lulu W. 
Cummings, '97, gave the annals of the college year, 1894 ; Miss Adelaide 
Smith, '93, furnished some music; and Miss Margarita Spalding, '91, read 
Miss Bates's poem, "The College Beautiful." Then, according to the custom 
for several years, "Alma Mater" was sung, and the chorus was larger and 
more enthusiastic than usual. With regret it must be announced that again 
no member of the Wellesley Faculty was present. Among the guests of the 
Association were Miss Ellen A. Vinton, '85, Miss Marion Canfield, '94, Miss 
H. E. Wales, Miss Godfrey, and Miss Marion Peabody. There were three 
new members to sign the constitution. The Association now has forty-six 

At the last meeting of the Cleveland Wellesley Club the following 
officers were elected: Lydia O. Pennington, '93, President; Harriet B. 
Chapman, Vice President; Faith Barkwill, Secretary; Vinnie Libby, '92, 

Miss Louise H. R. Grieve, M.D., Sp. '83-84, left Southampton, Eng., 
October 28, for her mission field in Ceylon. After a pleasant voyage, in 
whose course she stopped at Genoa, Naples, Port Said, and Suez, she 
arrived at Colombo, November 25. After three days at Colombo, most of 
which time was spent in visiting and receiving calls of welcome from the 
missionaries in that district, Miss Grieve took a most picturesque journey by 
carriage and bullock cart for two hundred and fifty miles across the island 
to Chavagaccheri. After a brief visit at Chavagaccheri, where she was wel- 
comed with speeches by the Tamil pastor and others, and songs in Tamil, 
composed for the occasion and sung by the girls, Dr. Grieve went on to 
Jaffna, to remain a while with the Scotts — Rev. Dr. Thos. Scott and his wife, 
Mrs. Dr. McCallom Scott, who have charge of a men's hospital, with a dis- 
pensary for women and children, under the A. B. C. F. M. Miss Grieve is 
the third lady doctor in the island, and is not under any board, but is 
independent. Her address is Jaffna, Northern Province, Ceylon. 


Miss Martha H. McFarland, '88, and her sister, Miss Grace McFarland, 
'94, are spending the winter in New York. Their address is 137 E. 38th 

Elizabeth B. Huntington, formerly of '91, is in Van, Eastern Turkey, 
where she is about to establish a kindergarten under the American Board. 

Miss Margarita Spalding, '92, is teaching in a Washington High 

Miss Sallie Worrall, formerly of '91, has been in residence, for a short 
time, at the New York College Settlement. 

Miss Frances Smith, formerly of '91, has returned from her California 
trip and has reopened her studio in New York City. 

Miss Emma Squires, '91, teacher of English at the Santa Barbara high 
school, spent her Christmas vacation with friends at Stanford University. 

Miss Josephine Emerson, '92, is teaching in Miss Bowen's private school 
in Providence, B. I. 

Miss Florence Myrick, '92, after a perilous ocean voyage, landed in 
New York in December, and will open a studio in the metropolis. 

The engagement is announced of Miss Anna Reed Wilkinson, '92, and 
Mr. Edward Harris Rathbun. 

Miss Mary Stevens Ay res, !87-'92, is teaching English and Mathe- 
matics in St. Hilda's Hall, Glendale, five miles from Los Angeles, Cal. Miss 
Ayres spent the vacation with Miss Bertha Lebus, '91. 

Miss Ella Hoghton, '93, is teaching in the Granville Seminary, Gran- 
ville, Ohio. 

Miss Alice Doe, formerly of '93, spent the summer in Maine, and is 
now at her home in Davenport, Iowa, engaged in literary and philanthropic 

Miss Marion Wharton Anderson, '94, is teaching at Dana Hall, as well 
as in Miss Goodnow's school, as announced by the December Magazine. 

Miss Marion Canfield, '94, and Miss Helen Stahr, '94, spent a week of 
the Christmas vacation with Miss Foss and Miss Blake in Philadelphia. 


Miss Bartholomew, '94, spent the first two weeks of January with rela- 
tions in Spuyten Duyvil, N. Y. 

Miss Helen Cowdrey, formerly of '94, has completed two years of 
musical study in Germany, and is teaching this winter in the South of this 

The winter address of Miss Sarah Delia Wyckoff, '94, is Ormond, 
Volusia County, Florida. 

The Dramatic Seminary, which is held Thursday evenings at the home 
of Professor Bates, was converted into a social evening on January 24, the 
Thursday of examination week, and all graduate students at the College 
were invited. After each one present had selected a flower, Mrs. Bates 
called the roll by flowers, and was answered by a five-minute talk on the 
book of the past year that had been the greatest inspiration to that particular 
reader. Dr. Roberts delicately announced the close of the five minutes to 
the enthusiastic speakers, by passing to them a dish of bonbons. Those 
present were Professor Bates, Professor Coman, Dr. Roberts, Miss Sher- 
wood, Miss Wilson, formerly instructor of English Literature at Wellesley, 
Mrs. Bates, Miss Hall and Mr. Gamaliel Bradford, Miss Amelia Hall, '84, 
Miss Adams, '86, Miss Abbe, '88, Miss Conant, Miss Holley, Miss Lauder- 
burn, '90, Miss Keller, '92, Miss Holmes, '94. 


There are seven residents at the St. Mary Street Settlement, Philadel- 
phia. In November Miss Caroline Williamson, '89, and Miss Helen Foss, 
'94, spent a week there. Since then Miss Foss, as one of the Coal Club 
Visitors, has gone every Tuesday morning to the homes of about twenty- 
five colored families to collect their week's savings for coal, which they 
thus get at wholesale prices. 

Miss Harriet Blake, '94, and Miss Foss teach in the English class, which 
meets Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and is composed largely of Jews and 

During Christmas week there were Christmas parties each afternoon and 
evening ; some being entirely for colored and some for white people ; some 
for adults, and some for children. 



The new year gave hopeful promise for the success of the labors of its 
coming months, by bringing to the Settlement four new workers. Among 
them Wellesley had as her representatives Miss Carol Dresser, '90, and Miss 
Myrtle Flagg, Special, '90-'93. 

One of the attractive features of the January festivities was the annual 
party given by the A. O. V. Club to its Mends. The girls took special 
delight in decking the Settlement parlors for the occasion, with their club 
colors — yellow and white — and their flower, the daisy. The evening was 
passed pleasantly in dancing, games and merry chatting, and it was gener- 
ally voted " one of the very nicest parties of the winter." 

On Friday, Jan. 25, the Settlement " received" its Mends and patrons. 
During the earlier part of the afternoon the houses were open for inspection ; 
later, talks were given relating to the work of the New York Settlement. 
Among the speakers were Mrs. Lowell and Mr. Richard Watson Gilder. 


Banes-Wrenn. — At Highland Park, Illinois, December 20, 1894, 
Margaret Wrenn, '91, to Mr. Robert Coleman Banes. At home after Jan. 
15, 1911 Mt. Vernon St., Philadelphia. 

Field-Baker. — On Thursday, January 10, Blanche Bigelow Baker, 
'92, to Mr. George Thornton Field. 

Hill-Miles. — On Thursday, January 24, 1895, Miss Caroline Miles 
to Mr. William Hill. 


January 4, 1895, a son, Edward Irving, to Gertrude Tinker Fulton, '88. 
December 24, 1894, a son, Elmer Ellsworth Hagler, to Mrs. Kent 
Dunlap Hagler, '90. 


Among the passengers presumably lost in the wreck of the Elbe was 
Mr. Henry N. Castle, the husband of Mrs. Mabel Wing Castle, '87. 


Jameson & Knowles Company, 


Boots, Shoes, and 

Specialties: Custom Work, Party Shoes 


No. 15 Winter Street, Boston, 
U. S. A. 


Stationers & Engravers 


20 per cent Discount 


Made by Wellesley College Students. 

No. 3 Beacon Street, 

"V" OUR attention is called to our stock of 

Gold and Silver Stick Pins ! 
Birthday Gifts ! 

Souvenir Spoons, Souvenir Cups. 
Hair Ornaments. 

Toilet and Desk Furnishings in Sterling and Plated Silver; Marble and Iron Clocks, $6.00 to $20.00. 

Stock in all departments always complete. 

A. StOWell & Co., 24 Winter Street, Boston. 

Cotrell & Leonard^** 

New York, 

Makers of 

Caps and 

To the 

American . . 

Illustrated . .. 

Catalogue and 
• Particulars on 

Artists' Materials . . . 

g* Drafting Instruments. 
Art Studies and Books. 

Oil and Water Colors, Crayons, Materials 
For Tapestry, Painting, etc. 

Wadsworth, Howland & Co. 

82 and 84 Washington Street, Boston. 

Branch Store in the 

Grundmann Studios, Clarendon Street, 

Near St. James Avenue. 
Principal Factories 

Maiden, Mass., and Paris, Maine, 



Mackintoshes and Cravenettes, 


$2.00 TO $25.00. 

fflellesley Preparatory, 

Prices 25 per cent lower than Dry Goods Stores. 

. . . Special IO per cent to Wellesley Students . . . 



Metropolitan Rubber Co., 

Miss Charlotte H. Conant, B.A. 


Miss Florence Bigelow, M.A. 


Gloves and Veiling. 



Calls the attention of the Young Ladies to her stock of Kid, Undressed Kid, and Dog Skin Gloves that 

are suitable for all occasions, also her very becoming stock of Veilings, and solicits their 

patronage, and will give to any of the students 6 per cent discount. 

Hotel Bellevue, 




Manufacturers of First-class 


Special attention given to Club Dinners and Receptions. 



Inferior Decorations, 


Nos. 38 to 48 Cornhill. 



Z5&SSF' • • • BOSTON. 



in all Departments 
of Literature 

can be found at our store. The largest 
assortment in Boston of the popular and 
standard authors. Also a large variety 
at special reductions. Large variety of 
Bibles, Prayer Books, Booklets, etc. 

We are noted for low prices. 


The Archway Bookstore, 


Shreve, Crump I Low Go. 



Fine Stationery. Card Engraving. 

Programs and Invitations, both printed and 
engraved. Class Day Progams a specialty. 

Class Pins designed and manufactured to 

Parasols and Umbrellas made to order, re- 
covered and repaired. 


. .ONLY. . 

First Glass THroii car Route 


Through Trains Leave Boston as follows : — 
8.30 a. m. (ex. Sunday) Day Express. 
10.30 a. m. (daily) Chicago Special. 
2.00 p. m. (daily) North Shore Limited. 
3.00 p. m. (ex. Sundays) St. Louis and 

Chicago Express. 
7.15 p. m. (daily) Pacific Express. 


Hartford, New Havens New York. 


9.00 a. m. 
11.00 a. m. 

4.00 p. m. 
11.00 p. m. 

(ex. Sunday) 
(ex. Sunday) 


3.30 p. m. 

5.30 p. m. 

10.00 p. m. 

6.41 a. m. 

For tickets, information, time-tables, etc., apply 
to nearest ticket agent. 


General Passenger Agent. 




Golf, Tennis, Basket Ball, Gymnasium, and 
General Athletic Goods. 

SWEATERS in Great Variety. 

Special discount of 15 per cent to Wellesley Students. Send 
for Catalogue. 


No. 344 Washington Street, 



11 John Street, New tjork, 

Designer and Maker 

Society Badges, 
Fraternity Pins, 
Rings, Emblem 
Jewels of every 
MEDALS — Trophies for presentation, from original 
and artistic designs. Special designs, with esti- 
mates, furnished on application. Inquiries by 
mail promptly attended to. We send design 
plates FREE upon request. 

Wellesley Pins can be obtained from Miss Eliz= 
abeth Stark, Business Manager of Magazine. 

The Dana Hall School, 


Pupils are prepared for regular or for special courses at 
Wellesley College. 

Price for Board and Tuition, $500 for the school year ; 
Tuition for day pupils, $125. 

For further information address the Principals : 

Julia A. Eastman, 
Sarah P. Eastman. 

Xldellesle^ |pbarmact>, 




Trunks and Bags, 

Pure Drugs and Medicines. 

No, 22 Cliauncy Street, 

Physicians' Prescriptions a Specialty. 



Don't Miss. 

Our Exhibition of 


Showing what can be accomplished 
toward . . . 

Decorations for 
Dinner, Lunch, and 
Fancy Parties. 

No known material offers such oppor- 
tunities for beautiful effects as 


Bio. 26 Franklin Street, Boston. 

For Fine Millinery 

Visit . . . 


No. 21 Temple Place, 




Corns, 25 cents: 


plaster for tender feet, 25cts. 

Ladies' and Gentlemen's rooms 

entirely separate 


The Senior Class Photographer 

is . . . 

Charles W. Hearn, 

NOi 392 Boylstoii Street, 
Boston, mass. 

Arrange dates with the Senior Class Photograph 
Committee : 

Miss Bertha Morrill. 
Miss Caroline Jacobus. 
Miss Sophie Voorhees. 

Also Photographer to 

Amherst College . 

Dartmouth College 

Mt. Holyoke College 

B. U. College of Liberal Arts 

Lasell Seminary 

Wesleyan University 

Etc., etc. 



~i n " i i ~ »i ~~ '»~>j~ »« ■ i~ i - ' -~ 

of Art. 

A bicycle catalogue 
can be more than a 
mere price-list of 
the maker's goods. 
It can be beautiful 
with the best work 
of noted artists and 

designers. Rich in information besides. Such a 

book is the 

Columbia Bicycle 

■which tells of New Model Columbias, their points 
of excellence, and their equipment. The book is 
free at any Columbia agency, or is mailed for two 
2-cent stamps. You who propose to ride cannot 
do without it, for it tells of the best bicycles — 




$60 $50. 

The Columbia Desk Calendar will make work at your desk 
easier and pleasunter. By mail lor ten cents in stamps. 


General Offices and Factories, 


Leonard N. Howe, D.M.D. 


Corner Boylston and Tremont Streets, 


Late Instructor of Operative and Surgical 
Dentistry in Harvard University. 

Office Hours, 9 A. M. to 5 P. M. 


Oculists' prescriptions correctly filled. 
Glasses carefully fitted and adjusted to 
insure nose comfort. 

Ten per cent discount to 
Wellesley Students. 


All kinds of spectacle repairing neatly executed. 
References given. 

CHARLES W. HURLL, Jr., Practical Optician, 

409 Washington St., (between Winter and Bromfield Sts.) 

• -Kine Carpets- •• 




William Morris's Patterns in Carpets and Hammersmith Rugs. 

We feel that our Fall Stock will bear the Closest Inspection. 

Joel Goldthwait <& Company, 

Nos. 163 to 169 Washington Street, Boston, 

Kid Gloves, Mittens, Hosiery, 

Ladies' Umbrellas and Mackintoshes. 

EQUIPOISE WAISTS sent, express paid, for inspection to any 
one at Wellesley College, with the privilege of returning, if 
not satisfactory, at our expense, or sending price by mail if kept. 


J. B. LEAMY, Walcott Building, NATICK, riAS5. 




Session '94~'95 opens October i, 1894. Three years, Graded Course. Instruction 
by Lectures, Clinics, Recitations and practical work, under supervision in Laboratories 
and Dispensary of College, and in U. S. Infirmary. Clinics and operations in most of 
the City Hospitals and Dispensaries open to Women Students. 

For Catalogues, etc., address 


321 East I5tri Street, New York. 



She : When we got our wheels last year we didn't suppose 
there could be any better ones, did we ? 

He : No ; but the '95's are ahead of them. They are 
lighter, and at the same time stronger, because of the new 
nickel-steel tubing. 

She : The saddles are more comfortable than ever before. 

He : Yes, and the wheels are safer, too. The guards, 
rubber pedals, foot rests, and brake work make them models 
for safety and comfort. 

She : And is it true that the price has been reduced when 
the wheels are so much improved? 

He : Yes ; the company has established the standard 
price at $100, which must insure a tremendous increase in 
the number used. 



Free Instruction to purchasers. 
All orders promptly executed. 
Catalogues free on application. 


yee. hi peseta 






In every department of our store we allow Wellesley 

Professors and Students a discount, 

generally 10 per cent. 

During the year you will notice many attractive goods which your friends at home 
would be glad to see. We shall be glad to send samples at your request. 

Dress Goods, Hosiery, Neckwear, Millinery, 
Underwear and Art Embroideries 

are perhaps some of the departments most interesting to students, but the discount applies 
to every department. 


Tremont Street and Temple Place - - BOSTON, MASS. 

Formerly Designer for Celeste. 




In Attractive and Exclusive Designs specially 

adapted for young ladies, and not to 

be found elsewhere. 

SHAPES, constantly received and at 


ALLAND, 112 Tremont Street, 

Under Studio Building, Boston. 

146 Tremont Street, Boston. 

Branch of 

863 Broadway, N. Y. 

Pure, Fresh, and. Delicious 


A Choice Selection of Fancy Baskets, 
Boxes, and Bonbonnieres constantly 
on hand at very reasonable prices. . . 

Mail Orders given Prompt Attention. 

Frank Wood, Printer, Bolton.